


Snowbound

by aussieokie



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Ressler angst, Ressler struggles with his addiction, Snow Storm, Unashamedly Keenler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 73,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussieokie/pseuds/aussieokie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story set in my Hard Rain universe. Ressler finally gets the chance to do something he failed to do for 5 years - catch Raymond Reddington. Or does he? Is it all just an elaborate plan to catch a Blacklister? And in doing so, all of their lives are in danger when things go completely off their pre-arranged plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Captured

Donald Ressler sat in his vehicle, head down and sighed heavily. In a ritual that had started the morning after he'd poured his pills down the sink, he sat silently each day before entering the Post Office. This was his 'prep time'. A minute or two that he took each day to center his core, to ready himself for the day ahead. His days were filled with so many unknowns, but this was one part that he made sure happened.

 _Hi, my name is Don and I'm a drug addict... I'm a junkie..._  He shook his imagined opening if he ever needed to attend a Narcotics Anonymous meeting away, and silently began giving himself his pep talk. The one that went something like:

_You will not think about pain pills today (except for right now). You will not call your doctor about an injury (imagined or real) that needs pain pills. You will not endlessly look at your top drawer, wondering if any pills have magically appeared in it. You will not reach into your right pocket searching for pills during stressful times. Or times that aren't so stressful. Whatever. You will not look for pills today. You will not think about drugs today._

He raised his eyes to the mirror on the back of the sun visor, forever drawn to his reflection during this entire drug addiction journey. Each step cataloged in his brain, in how he'd looked and felt at the time both good and bad, reinforcing it to himself. His blue eyes stared back at him, knowing him, understanding him, and he wasn't going to fool himself or anyone today. Just for today, he would comply.  _One day at a time..._

Staring deeply into his eyes, he completed his internal litany -  _I am Special Agent Donald Ressler. And I am NOT a junkie._

Nodding, he whispered under his breath to his own eyes in the mirror. "Let's roll." His morning ritual complete, he stepped out of his car, shoving his hands in his coat pocket against the cold bite to the air. Snow had been forecast, and it had felt every bit like it this morning. Looking briefly around to see if Liz had arrived yet, he didn't see her car, but then nine times out of ten he beat her in anyway. He was a morning person - or at least HAD been stoically before... before the drugs. That was another thing he was reinforcing in himself. He hadn't yet migrated back to jogging each morning. That intense 30 minutes of running until his chest heaved, while the world woke up as the sun rose over the city.  _One step at a time._  For now, making himself get up and watch the sun rise as he drank a coffee was a little step back into a former routine.

On hearing a car come in, he quickly looked toward the entrance. It wasn't Liz, so he walked toward the doors to the elevator as his breath vaporized around his face in the brisk air. With a quick nod and a 'good morning' to the guard at the elevator he stepped inside the yellow metal box. Alone as it descended, he looked around.  _They really need to repaint this in something that doesn't make us all look like jaundiced liver patients._

As he walked into the war room, everything appeared quiet. The lights were on in Cooper's office, but he was honestly beginning to wonder if the man ever went home. Aram was already in, which almost annoyed him, but he was getting good at telling himself off these days.  _So you're not the first one in. Get over it._ Walking past the man, he said good morning to Aram.

"Uh...good morning, Agent Ressler." Aram looked up at him as he strode by, almost surprised Ressler had acknowledged him first.

Ressler had been making a concerted effort to appear more...well adjusted...around his work colleagues. So he was now on a different 'version' of himself. Donald Ressler MK4, the one that wasn't a junkie and was polite and said good morning. He stopped in his thoughts, counting back. Was it MK4? By the book, immovable Ressler (the uptight jerk, he freely admitted to himself) had been MK1. Grateful to be alive, post Anslo Garrick Ressler had been MK2. Vigilante Ressler in the wake of Audrey dying had been MK3. Then the strung out, thumb breaking, 'reached the end of his rope' version had been MK4. His numbering was off though, as he realized he was now onto 'I'm a drug addict in recovery' MK5 version of himself. _Damn. Busy year..._

Having got his numbering system straight, he headed to the break room for the only drug he allowed himself now - caffeine. That, and Scotch whiskey, but not on the job. Coffee in hand, he finally sat down at his desk and flipped his computer on. Warming his hands on his coffee cup while the FBI logo came up on the screen, he was making a determined effort not to look at his top drawer. The drawer formally known as 'the drug stash'.  _Just one peek... Oh, for God's sake._ Just because he gave himself his morning litany, didn't mean it was easy to follow. But he didn't peek, his attention instead drawn to the elevator doors opening as Liz entered.

 _Announcing the arrival of Complication Number One..._  But he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been looking for her and waiting for her. Things just felt more...complete...when she was around. Which was confusing the crap out of him.  _All these 'C' words…complicated, complete, confusing. Let's add caring...confidante...comfortable. Crap._  When she wasn't around, his glances had nowhere to focus. And that had taken him a while to realize. He hadn't even noticed how many times he glanced at her at first. In confirmation? Or in friendship? He wasn't sure. All he knew was, she was the one he sought out when something needed sharing...and he had been doing it since the day he'd met her.

As she entered their office he gave her a small smile, took a sip of his coffee and showed no sign of the confusion regarding their...relationship...going on inside his head. And he would have blissfully gone about his morning catching up on case files, with no new cases having been presented, until she spoke up.

"Hey, morning," she smiled, sitting at her desk and dropping her bag in the bottom drawer. "Red just called. He's heading in here to give us a briefing."

He leaned back in his chair at that news eying her across their desks, and suddenly had a feeling his day was going to be far from blissful. "Oh, this is going to be good." Ressler MK5 had disappeared, having been instantly replaced with sarcastic and wary Ressler MK1.

She tilted her head to one side, smiling and shaking her head at his instant wariness. "What makes you say that?"

_Trust me Liz, the Ressler Radar just fired up._

He shook his head, sucking his teeth. "When was the last time he set foot in here and gave us a briefing that didn't involve him playing us for his gain? Remember Madeline Pratt? Look how well that turned out."

They both turned at the sound of the elevator doors opening, and glanced back at each other as Red entered the building. "Here we go," she said, smiling again at the mistrust emanating from him, while inwardly acknowledging to herself that her partner was right. This probably wasn't going to be good.

###

Cooper came down the stairs to the briefing, his cane tapping on each metal step as he carefully descended. Not for the first time, Ressler found himself wondering if their boss would ever walk without a cane. And looking away from Cooper, he suddenly realized that his coworkers must have thought that of him after he'd returned to work after Anslo Garrick. And that train of thought was going to lead to the pain, and the pain pills...so he immediately squashed it and glanced up at Liz as she stood beside him. She raised her eyebrows at him in question, but at that moment Red's smooth voice brought Ressler's thoughts back to the job at hand.

"Aram, if you wouldn't mind putting those pictures up that I just gave you. There's a good man."

As Aram expertly threw the images onscreen, they showed a blown out bus depot, a burnt hotel, and a couple of other buildings that had been reduced to charred rubble. "Meet the Bombmaker," said Red. Ressler drew his eyes off the monitors and glanced at the man.  _Seriously, who comes up with these names..._

"What you see has been classified as gas leaks, natural disasters, and in one case, an out of control bus that collided with a terminal at the depot." Red turned to look at them, drawing his eyes off the screen. "None of these are accidents or gas leaks. All are the work of the Bombmaker. His devices are cleverly hidden inside vehicles and buildings, leaving no trace of his work."

Cooper was studying the images while leaning on his cane and glanced at Reddington. "How can you be sure all of these are the work of this Bombmaker if there is no trace?"

Ressler was watching Reddington, and saw the moment that something changed behind his eyes.  _Here we go..._

"Because, Harold, all of those businesses, and others he's hit, are owned by me. All of these attacks have been directed at me and my interests over the years. And each time there is a package left at the scene the following day, with a note asking if I got the message," said Red pointedly, inclining his head to the right to emphasize his point.

Nodding, he looked over the rest of them gathered around Aram's desk. "This is personal. This man has been taking out my business interests, albeit small businesses, for years. And frankly, I'm tired of it."

Ressler shook his head and rolled his eyes, having heard enough. "You mean, you want us to take out one of your opposite numbers. Why would the Bureau get involved in something that is clearly between you and this Bombmaker?"

Red looked at Ressler, not quite condescendingly, but in an overly patient manner. Ressler didn't miss the change. A lot of water under the bridge between them now had changed the mans views toward him. Red saving his life and picking him up by his bootstraps when he couldn't function had changed things between them - but the old conflict still rose up at times.

"Because Donald, while destroying my businesses, this man also kills innocent bystanders. He ensures the body count is at its highest. And that, my friend, makes this man dangerous."

Ressler looked up at the images on the screen again, not recognizing the name on the bus depot or the hotels, then back to Red. "Where did these bombings take place?"

Red had Aram load some more images on screen. More burnt out and charred buildings came into view, showing charred bodies and mangled flesh among the ruins. "These are across Europe. Paris, one in Cologne. The restaurant there is...was... in Amsterdam."

He turned to them again. "Those were in Europe. And so far that's been the extent of his dealings with me. But I have it on good authority that he flew into JFK this morning."

Cooper interrupted. "He's on US soil? Any idea what business of yours he is targeting?"

Red turned and looked at Cooper squarely. "Oh, he's not targeting a business this time Harold. He's targeting me."

Ressler glanced at Liz, meeting her gaze. She turned to Red. "Then do we need to keep you here while he's in the country?" she asked warily, wondering where the criminal was going with this.

Reddington smiled at her, twirling his hat in his hands. "Not at all Lizzie. I have a different plan in mind," he grinned, looking at Ressler now. "After 6 years, Donald is finally going to catch me."

 _What...?_  All eyes turned to Ressler, who suddenly felt extremely exposed under their scrutiny.  _What the hell is he up to now...?_

Reddington, with that 'cat got the canary' smile firmly in place now, slapped him on the back. "Don't look so worried, Donald! And put your game face on. You'll make the 6 o'clock news while doing so. In fact, it's essential that you do."

Ressler glared at him, silently willing Cooper to turn down Red's 'proposal'. His stomach dropped as Cooper spoke.

"How's that going to happen? Where will it go down?" Cooper asked Red.

Believing his boss was completely missing the point, Ressler asked the obvious. "What purpose will that serve?" He glanced at Liz again, meeting her eyes briefly before returning his gaze to Reddington, waiting for the answer.

Red regarded him a moment, before addressing all of them. "Over the years I have made sure the Bombmaker doesn't know my whereabouts. And though I have spent considerable resources devoted to the matter, I have never found a trace of him. He's as elusive as the bombs he builds. In order to find him, we must draw him out. We must make him come to me. And now that he is on US soil, I honestly don't know what havoc he may create in order to find me. So I'm going to make it simple for him. I'm going to show him," he looked at Ressler, "thanks to your little task force, Donald, where to find me."

Ressler nodded slowly. He'd thought as much _._

"So in essence, you're the bait?" said Cooper at that moment, echoing Ressler's thought.

"Exactly. Glad to see we're all on the same page," beamed Red, and Ressler looked away quickly to avoid the urge to slap the criminal. With a concerted effort, he straightened his hand.  _Damn...calm down._  He'd noticed this...side effect... of the drug recovery. He was even quicker to inward anger at times since not taking any pills, which was why he was consciously working on being 'Mr Nice Guy'.

Through the haze of his thoughts, Ressler heard Reddington telling Cooper that he would give them a location he'd be at this evening. He stole another glance at Liz, who met his eyes worriedly. Oh, he knew this sounded fine in theory. He knew Cooper was going for it. But inwardly, he also knew there was more to it. Had to be where Reddington was concerned.  _And damn it, Cooper knows the man too. Why is he going for this?_

Reddington was talking to him again, and he lifted his eyes to meet the man. "Make it look good Donald. Be convincing. I'm counting on you."

###

Liz followed Ressler to their office, noting the set of his shoulders, and the dip in his head as he walked.

"Why is this bothering you so much...?" she asked him carefully as he sat down at his desk. He spun his chair slowly to face her as she sat on the edge of his desk. Their preferred positions, he'd noticed, when they talked now. They didn't usually talk across their desks anymore, as she usually came and sat near him... almost like co-conspirators...

"To be honest, I'm not sure...," he told her truthfully, picking up a pen off his desk. "I know he's playing us. But maybe because he's rubbing it in my face that I failed to catch him?" He looked up at her, asking rather than telling.  _Or maybe because my brain is still craving drugs and everything is suspicious?_

She smiled at him. "Maybe... I thought you were over that aspect of all this though? Because you know as well as I do that if Red doesn't want something, it doesn't happen. And when he DOES want something he gets it. Including being caught."

He looked up at her, twirling the pen thoughtfully in his hands. "Yeah, but he's not telling us everything..."

She laughed and leaned down a little toward him, her hair dropping forward over her features. "I hate to break it to you, but Red is NEVER telling us everything!"

"I know." He leaned forward, dropped the pen and typed something into his computer. "And that's why this is bothering me so much." He glanced out their window, then back to her. "And I don't understand why Cooper is going along with it."

She met his eyes, saw the concern and nodded. "I don't think..." she hesitated, not wanting to voice it, but plowed on. "Ress, I'm not sure Cooper is firing on all pistons right now. He hasn't been since he got hurt...like there's something else wrong with him than what we're seeing, and that worries me too." She looked at what had come up on his computer screen. Photos of a beautiful red and gold, ornate theater.

"That's where we're heading? Wow... Oh, that has Reddington written all over it..." She was right. The theater was stunning, with seemingly every square inch of its surface decorated in gold, lavish artwork, red curtains, and hanging above the plush red seats, an enormous chandelier. The plan sounded 'simple enough'. Red would be attending the ballet at the Ohio Theater that evening. Their anonymous tip would come in (had already come in), and they'd be there to arrest him.

"Yeah, that's the place. Damn, it's huge..." He pointed to the screen. "There. He'll be in that private box overlooking the right side of the stage..."

Liz met his eyes." Right where everyone will see us arrest him."

Apparently everyone was echoing his thoughts today. "Exactly," he told her, then exited out of the screen and shut his computer off. "But we need to get ready. If the man wants to be caught in Columbus, Ohio, then we'd better get our gear and head up there."

###

To say Ressler was antzy would be an understatement. Liz was sitting beside him in the unmarked van outside the Ohio Theater, almost feeling the tension vibrating off him.

"You okay?" she whispered, and he briefly glanced at her, nodding quickly, before returning his gaze to the theatre in front of them.  _We just need to get this done and get the hell out of here._  He was looking at, but not really seeing the patrons milling around the front of the theatre. Men in tuxedos and expensive wool coats, leading women dressed in beautiful evening gowns toward the grand entrance. They were parked across the street in the cab of a surveillance van, about half a block down the road. Part of him wanted this done. And part of him almost felt ashamed to be about to barge in on such an elite looking gathering.

"Fancy looking crowd..." said Liz quietly beside him from the passenger seat, and he actually smiled a thin smile at that. Once again, someone had voiced his own thoughts.

As they watched, the crowd began to thin out on the street. Limos had stopped arriving and burgundy clad doormen closed the front doors to the theatre. The performance had begun, and their 'assigned' time to raid the place was approaching. From behind them in the rear of the van, one of the agents spoke to him through the mic in his left ear. "We have eyes on Reddington. He's in position in the VIP box." Ressler didn't answer through his wrist mic, but turned to Liz. Her blue eyes caught the light from the street lamp above them as he nodded to her. "It's time. Let's roll."

Before he could move, her hand shot out to his right arm, resting on the nylon sleeve of his blue FBI jacket. She squeezed his arm. "I'm going to stay here with the surveillance guys, and I'll be in contact with you that way," she smiled at him from the passenger seat. "Go get him Ress. You've waited 6 years for this."

He glanced toward the theatre, then back at her, licking his bottom lip and speaking to her quietly. "You know this isn't real though, Liz."

"It's as real as you're going to get. That armed team outside don't know that. So make it good," she smiled. He held her eyes a moment longer, then nodded to her. "Wish me luck." And with that, he was gone, climbing out of the driver's seat to coordinate with the armed team gathered behind the van.

He looked over the men. Six of them dressed in black fatigues, with FBI emblazoned on their chests and backs. Two more agents in FBI jackets stepped out of a black SUV parked behind the van. There would be no doubt as to who was arresting Reddington. He addressed the team as they turned their attention to him.

"Okay, we all know the drill. Reddington is in the VIP box above the right side of the stage. We move in, surround him, cuff him, and get out without a shot fired," he said, looking at the silent team around him. "I don't want any blood spilled in this, got it?" The men nodded, affirming his order. As an afterthought, he added, "And let's try not to terrify any little old ladies in fur coats and tiaras."

He held a finger to his ear as he heard Liz's voice crackle in his earpiece. "Ressler, he's moving. Red's left the VIP box!"

"Damn it. Okay, he's on the move! Let's roll!" Ressler turned, leading the men across the street as the traffic eased up. In a tight huddle with guns drawn they approached the theatre at a run. Alarmed bystanders cried out and stood still on the sidewalk as the formation passed them by. The doormen, who had been standing around now that their jobs were done for the moment, glanced up, only to find nine gun wielding FBI agents bearing down on them. One dropped the cigarette he'd just lit. One sunk back into the ticket booth.

As they approached the doors, a shrill alarm rang out from inside the theatre. The fire alarm had been set off. Ressler almost stopped. Almost called off the entire raid at that. It was Montreal all over again, only on a much grander scale.  _Damn you Reddington!_  He knew who had pulled the fire alarm.

He had to go through with it though, and yelled at the doormen. "Open those doors!" He was about to shout 'then seal them behind us! No one gets out!' which had been the original plan, when he realized he couldn't. Not with 2000+ people inside and the fire alarm sounding. The doormen nodded fearfully, eager to comply and the main doors were thrown open. As they charged in, Ressler realized with horror there were already people spilling out of the auditorium at an alarming speed.

"Where is he?!" Ressler called into his wrist mic to Liz, getting jostled by patrons now. He could barely hear her voice. "We lost sight of him! Still looking!"

"Damn it!" He turned to his armed men, motioning to them to fan out and look for Reddington. They ran into the crowd and at the sight of them, a woman screamed. And that was all it took. One scream set off another woman, then another, and soon Ressler and his team were surrounded by screaming and yelling patrons, surging by them to reach the exit as the fire alarm rang out.

"I see him! Top of the grand staircase!" Ressler heard Liz yell in his ear. He spun around in the direction of the stairs, his way blocked by hundreds of people milling around the lobby now. Moving as fast as he could he pushed his way through jostling patrons, and followed by three of his team, he approached the red carpeted staircase. Elbowing his way through tuxedos and fur coats, mindful of the fact he had a loaded gun in his hand, he finally spotted Red on the landing at the top of the stairs. An elderly woman screamed right by his ear as a man swept her away to safety, but he kept his eyes on Red. So much for not terrifying little old ladies, he cursed to himself.

"There!" He pointed to his men, but they'd got eyes on him now and were surging by him. The terrified crowd scattered on the stairway, fleeing from the sight of the rifle wielding team. The other four armed team members now converged on the staircase, their prize in sight. "No shots! Do not fire!" Ressler shouted into his mic, warning his team again. Running up the stairs two at a time, Ressler saw Red right in front of him, surrounded by gunmen.

"Raymond Reddington! On your knees!" Ressler yelled at the criminal above the noise of the fire alarm and milling crowd. Red stood alone at the top the stairs on the landing, the patrons having fled the scene now. All that surrounded him were Ressler and his team with their weapons trained on him. At Ressler's shout, Red dutifully dropped to his knees, knitting his fingers together behind his head. He met Ressler's eyes and the two men stared at each other. And in that moment, Ressler almost forgot this wasn't real. In that moment, closing in for the arrest of Number 4, it almost felt like the culmination of 6 years work to find the criminal.

And as he approached Reddington, weapon drawn, eyes narrowed as he looked into Red's calm eyes, he was suddenly aware of a blur to his left. "Ress!" Liz yelled in warning, but it was too late. Dembe was right beside him and he had barely focused on the black man when Dembe slammed a fist into his face. Pain shot across the middle of his face and blood poured from his nose. Losing his balance at the sudden hit he dropped to his knees on the stairs, losing hold of his weapon.

Dembe pounced, grabbed the gun and held it on Ressler. And as Ressler looked up, blood dripping down his chin and onto his shirt and bulletproof vest, with Liz yelling in his ear, he looked into the barrel of his own gun.

Two of the armed team trained their weapons on Dembe while another agent shouted out, "Stand down or we will shoot you!"

Dembe ignored them as he calmly looked at Ressler, still on his knees as blood poured from his throbbing nose.

"I said stand down!" The agent held a gun to Dembe's head.

And then Red's calm voice filled the air. "Dembe, put the gun down. I don't think we'll be shooting Agent Ressler today." And Dembe calmly placed the gun on the step, before being thrown to the ground as the agent cuffed him roughly.

Ressler climbed to his feet, futilely wiping the blood from his nose and chin. He grabbed his gun, held it in both hands that were slippery with his blood and faced Red again, walking up the last few steps to face the kneeling man.

"Raymond Reddington, you are under arrest."

And he knew it wasn't real. He knew it was all for show. But damn, it felt good saying that. And with the blood dripping from his nose making him feel slightly light headed he holstered his weapon, then stepped behind Red. Reaching for the man's wrists and dropping them behind his back, he cuffed the criminal and hauled him to his feet. Red looked at him, smiling sardonically.

"Agent Ressler, I see you finally got your man."


	2. Circus

Ressler didn't think it possible that the mayhem at the theatre could increase, but it did. Tenfold. Within moments of handcuffing Reddington, their attention was drawn to red strobe lights flashing and sirens blaring outside the building. The Fire Brigade had arrived. And as if that weren't enough, blue lights were now flashing in tandem with their red lights, announcing the fact the Police had also arrived en masse.

Bullhorns sounded as the Police (or Fire, Ressler wasn't sure which) spoke to the crowd. "Please evacuate the area as calmly and as swiftly as possible. If you require medical attention, there are ambulances situated in the Valet Parking area."

More people screamed and surged out of the almost evacuated building, and Ressler turned to one of the other agents with him who was from the Columbus Field Office. "We can't go out the front into that. Is there a back exit we can use?"

Before he even got an answer though, he felt Red's arm tense suddenly under his hand, and he turned and looked at the criminal. Red didn't say a word, and simply looked right at Ressler and shook his head imperceptibly. And it wasn't the shake of his head that got Ressler's attention. It was Red's eyes boring into his own. Silently making him listen when he couldn't say anything that might give away the fact this wasn't real.

Ressler looked at Red a second longer. While he didn't understand why the criminal did not want him to go out the back, in that moment he trusted Red completely. The intensity of that look made him comply.

"Actually, forget it," Ressler told the other agent now. "If we go out the back we'll have to drag Reddington through the street back to our vehicles. And there is no way I'm doing that." He felt Red's arm visibly relax under his hand and glanced at him again. This time there was no return look from Red. It was time for their charade to begin again.

"Okay Reddington. We're going out there to our vehicles. If you cooperate with us, this will go smoothly. Got it?" Ressler told him, loud enough that the team heard him.

"Oh, loud and clear, Agent Ressler," said Red, oozing charm like only he could. And if he was deliberately trying to annoy Ressler again, he was off to a good start with that tone.

Ressler heard Liz in his ear again. "It looks like a war zone out here with Police, Fire and Ambos! What the hell is going on in there?!" He then realized that while Liz and the surveillance guys had the video feed, they had no sound.

He lifted his left wrist to talk to Liz, while looking at Red pointedly. "Someone set off the Fire alarm," he told Liz, noting the slight upturn of one corner of Red's mouth. The shrill alarm was still ringing through the lobby, which was doing nothing for his head. He wasn't sure if his nose was broken or not, but he sure as hell was developing a throbbing headache now. "We're bringing…the prisoner out now," he told Liz, then nodded to the men near him to surround them, and with Dembe cuffed and escorted right behind he and Red, they moved off the stairs and down into the lobby.

"I'll be right there!" Liz said to him, but he stopped her. "Negative! You'll never get through this crowd! Stay in the van!"

As they approached the main doors, they were stepping over single shoes, purses, scarves, and all manner of small clothing items left by the fleeing patrons. With the lobby almost empty now, several Police officers ran into the building from outside. Ressler knew they'd try to stop them, and already had his credentials ready. "FBI! This man is under our jurisdiction, and we need to escort him and his employee off the premises."

"Oh my God...," Ressler was interrupted by Liz's voice in his ear as they were about to exit the building. He momentarily looked away from the Police Officer and raised his wrist to ask Liz, but she continued. "TV is here," she told him, but he'd just seen it too. The media had arrived on scene, complete with bright lights and reporters waving mics around, all running to the doors with cameramen jogging to keep up.

_Unbelievable. Barnum and Bailey have nothing on this._

He turned back to the Police. "Any assistance you can give us getting through THAT," he nodded to the spectacle outside, "would be much appreciated." The Police nodded and formed a line in front of the armed men surrounding Ressler and Red, with the two Columbus agents bringing up the rear.

One of the Police turned back to him, focusing on the blood streaming down Ressler's face. "Are you okay, sir?

Ressler nodded, again trying to wipe the blood from his nose and chin. The bleeding had slowed a little, but certainly showed no sign of stopping yet. He turned to Red. "Move it." He held Red's arm roughly with his bloodied hand, guiding him behind the police and armed men surrounding them.

"Agent Ressler, you are bleeding all over my tux. And this tuxedo costs about what you make in a year," Red told him, looking sideways at the agent.

Ressler looked at him, barely suppressing a smile. That was the best news he'd heard all day. "What a shame," he said, his blood dripping on Red's sleeve as he leaned closer. "Perhaps you shouldn't have you set your bodyguard onto me."

Red beamed, having got a rise out of Ressler. And in that second, Ressler realized he'd just been played, and this time it was for the benefit of the TV cameras.

"Smile Donald, you're on TV," chuckled Red and all Ressler could do was keep his mouth shut and grip Red's arm even harder as their party tried to get through the throng of people outside the theatre. TV reporters were coming out of the woodwork now. Microphones and glaring TV lights were thrust toward him as he escorted Red, momentarily blinding them with the lights.

"Can you confirm you have captured the notorious criminal, Raymond Reddington?" a woman shouted out to him, shoving her mic into his face.

"Notorious. Did you hear that Donald?"

"Shut up," he said, to both Red and the TV reporter.

"Mr Reddington! How does it feel knowing you've finally been captured by the FBI?" a woman called out.

Red grinned at her. "Well, all good things, as they say…"

Another mic was in Ressler's face and a voice behind the lights asked him, "May we have your name sir? Are you with the Columbus FBI Field office?"

Ressler glared in the direction of the reporter and said nothing. They were barely moving now. The media had all but stopped their progress. Even the police line in front of them was having little effect. Ressler stole a glance behind them, alarmed to see they'd only come about 30 feet out of the building.

Red was talking to the reporters again. "Oh, you'll have to forgive him. He's been after me for years, yet even in success he's not very sociable." And smiling congenially at Ressler, he tilted his head slightly.

Ressler pulled the man's arm in a vain attempt to get him to shut up. He wasn't play acting anymore. The TV crews were irritating the heck out of him, and Red was goading them which wasn't helping.

Looking at the blood running down Ressler's face, another reporter yelled out, "Sir, you appear to be hurt. Are we to assume Mr Reddington resisted arrest?"

Ressler just glared at the reporter as Red chuckled beside him. "Oh he's just accident prone. Isn't that right, Donald?" Red goaded him, and Ressler met his eyes silently.

And another reporter was in his face. "Sir, may we have your name?"

Ressler was about to give the woman an earful when, naturally, Red spoke up again.

"This gentleman is Special Agent Donald Ressler. That's R-E-S-S-"

Ressler finally held his bloody hand up to the reporters and leaned into Red. "Shut up Reddington."

And under his breath, hidden under the sound of the crowd, he hissed at the criminal. "You do know the meaning of 'contrite', I take it? Practice it."

Reddington just beamed at him. And as Ressler met the criminal's eyes, he wondered how it would look on national TV with an FBI agent beating the shit out of his prisoner.

"How did you spell that name sir?" asked a reporter, holding up her notebook. Ressler grit his teeth and glared in the direction of the question.  _Damn it. Someone get us the hell out of here._  And right on cue, almost as if she'd heard his thoughts, he heard Liz in his ear. "Hey…calm down…just concentrate on dragging Red out of there, one step at a time. Don't let the media get to you Ress… Don't let Red get to you. Concentrate on my voice. Just concentrate and take one step at a time till you're clear of the crowd."

Concentrating as Liz kept talking, Ressler managed to ignore the reporters now, still pulling Red along with him. And all Liz was doing was giving him status reports. Where the police were grouping, where the ambulances were, how many patients they appeared to be treating, and how many people were driving away from the scene now. But it was enough to keep him centered. They were inching away from the building. It all felt so surreal. Almost like this was never going to end.

At that moment, more cars pulled up outside the theatre. More FBI agents from the Columbus field office sprang from the vehicles and headed into the chaos. In his ear he heard Liz giving him another status report. "I called for backup. Figured we were outnumbered and needed reinforcements."

Ressler could have hugged her right then as he saw the newly arrived agents converging on the scene, flashing their badges to all and sundry. Taking charge of the TV crews, the additional agents ordered them back now and began to clear a path. With the police and agents working together, as well as his own armed team they were finally making some progress.

Even Red had shut up.

As they passed through the crowd in relative quiet now, he had to ask Red. Had to know why he'd changed their plan. "What the hell were you thinking with the fire alarm?!" he hissed into the criminal's ear.

"Donald, it may surprise you to learn that not everything is about you."

Ressler just looked silently at him. He was in no mood for riddles with the way his head was feeling now.

"And in this case, not everything was about me."

Ressler looked at him impatiently, just needing the man to get on with it.

"There was a reason I pulled the fire alarm. It was because-"

And in a split second of déjà vu, Ressler felt the air get sucked in around him, then whoosh past him as the ground shook under his feet. He'd felt that before, when Alan Fitch's bomb had gone off. People screamed, hit the ground and he and his team all instinctively ducked. It took a second to realize what had happened.

A bomb had gone off inside the theatre behind them. The sound of breaking glass filled the air and people screamed anew as glass rained down on the concrete outside the entrance.

"Ress! Are you guys okay?!" Liz was yelling in his ear again. He lifted his wrist. "We're fine." But his attention was on Red, because he saw the calmness in the man's eyes.

"You knew?!"

Red nodded as their police escort and firemen raced past them to enter the building, and spoke close to Ressler's ear. "Not entirely. But I suspected. As the performance was about to get under way, I looked down into the audience and saw a known associate of the Bombmaker staring up at me in recognition. There was only one reason the Bombmaker would have someone there, in that building."

Ressler stared, putting the pieces together. "And you needed a very fast way to get those people out of there…"

The TV crews were running in two directions. Some toward the explosion, where they got roughly held back by the Police, while others were jostling for their attention again. "Raymond Reddington! Did you set a bomb in the building?!"

Reddington looked at them, his charm gone for the moment. "Absolutely not. However, if it weren't for the FBI arresting me tonight, you might have had a lot of hurt people in there. Be thankful these fine agents chose tonight for their little sting. What fortuitous timing, don't you think?"

Ressler's mind was racing. Red hadn't wanted them going the long way out the back of the building…because of the bomb. It made sense now. Liz was yelling in his ear again, but he ignored her for the moment and looked at Red. But the bomb was in the building BEFORE they had 'arrested' Red! And once again, his thoughts were echoed.

Red was talking urgently into his ear, so that no one else would hear, "Donald. Listen to me. The Bombmaker knew I was here before you showed up with your team."

Ressler spoke into his mic, finally answering his partner. "Liz! Forget taking Reddington to the Columbus Field Office for processing. Get word to the airport to get the jet ready. We need to leave tonight. We need to leave here as soon as possible!"

###

They were finally through the bulk of the crowds and emergency vehicles, which had now been joined by the Bomb Squad. The TV reporters were almost sulking now, their prize having been whisked away from them. But they had plenty more to report on with the chaos in front of them. Ressler briefly spoke to one of the Bomb Squad guys as they led Red away from the crowd. Early indications were that no one had been killed in the blast. A few injuries, but the consensus was that it would have been a disaster if the theatre had been full.

Ressler looked silently at Red as the Bomb Squad guy headed back into the theatre, finding himself in unfamiliar territory. He was grateful to the criminal for doing what he'd done. Despite the mayhem in the theatre as patrons fled out, it had saved lives. "Let's get out of here," he told his team tiredly, his head throbbing and the light headedness increasing.

Liz jumped out of the surveillance van to meet them as they approached. Running up to them, she looked at the blood all over the front of Ressler and gasped. "I'm fine Liz." He told her, though he was feeling anything but fine now. The Columbus agents had moved their SUVs closer to the surveillance van, ready to load the prisoners and make for the airport.

Ressler hurriedly moved to the second car in line as Liz opened the rear door. Allowing Red to step inside, he climbed in after the man. "Can you get him a vest?" He asked Liz, and she looked at Red and nodded, running to the back of the vehicle. Finding a vest in a case in the back, she then rummaged around in another case for something. Quickly closing the back, she came in on the other side of Red, sandwiching him between her and Ressler. Between them, they quickly took the cuffs off, put the vest on him, then recuffed him with his hands in front now.

"Your concern is touching Donald," said Red, much more quietly now, Ressler noticed. He spoke to an agent who was standing out on the road. "Have they got his bodyguard secured?"

"Yes sir, he's in the vehicle behind yours. We'll be handing him off to two of our agents at the airport for the flight back."

"Very good. Inform the lead vehicle to move out and make for the airport." The agent nodded in confirmation, and Ressler slammed the door and leaned forward. "Head for the airport," he told the driver. Turning their lights on, the vehicle started to move, slowly inching its way through the mass of fire trucks, Police, Bomb Squad and ambulance. Ressler leaned back on the seat - which really wasn't a good idea, because as soon as he did that, blood trickled down the back of his throat, gagging him. He quickly sat up again, coughing up blood into his hands.

"Agent Ressler, might I suggest you pinch your nose hard to help stop the bleeding," said Red with concealed concern, and Ressler turned to him. "Don't give me advice. Not after your bodyguard did this to me." And he wasn't sure if he meant it, or if he was saying it for the benefit of the driver.  _Maybe a little of both..._  Liz was reaching across Red now, handing Ressler a large dry cloth, and a container of pre-moistened cloths. "Here, I dug these out the back for you."

Ressler nodded and held the dry cloth to his face, gingerly feeling his nose. Red was looking at him again, and was going to give advice even if Ressler was pretending to ignore it. "I don't think it's broken. It looks too straight and isn't swelling."

Ressler looked at him silently.  _Thank you, Doctor Red._  And while he didn't tell Red to shut up this time, he didn't acknowledge him openly either. And as he began to pinch his nose hard in an effort to stop the bleeding (following Red's advice after all), they finally cleared the madhouse outside the theatre and made their way onto a clear road. They formed a convoy - a car in front of them, Dembe behind them, followed by two more SUVs bringing up the rear. The surveillance van peeled off and headed for the Columbus Field Office once they got onto the open road.

His nose finally stopped bleeding, and feeling very lightheaded, Ressler cleaned the blood off his face and chin with the pre-moistened wipes. That actually made him feel a little better, seeing his reflection in the window without blood all over his face. His phone rang, and digging it out of his inner pocket, he sighed and closed his eyes momentarily when he saw it was Cooper. He knew exactly what his boss was going to say. He wasn't disappointed.

"Agent Ressler, would you mind telling me what the hell that was? I have the TV on here and saw the spectacle in living color. I have the Deputy Attorney General calling me wanting to know why they weren't informed we were heading a raid in such distinguished circles tonight, why the fire brigade and police swarmed the theatre, and what the hell caused a bomb to go off. Could you possibly enlighten me, please?"

Ressler took a deep breath. If his boss would stop talking, perhaps he could enlighten him. Cooper finally stopped, waiting for his reply.

"Sir, that was us successfully apprehending Number 4 on our list. Which I believe was our objective tonight." From the other side of the seat, he caught sight of Liz's slight smile. She knew exactly what their boss would have said to Ressler. And she had to smile at her partner's controlled reply.

"I am well aware of what our objective was, Agent Ressler. I fail to see why it had to be done in such an…elaborate manner."

Ressler glanced at Reddington beside him. He figured sticking to the 'we have him in custody' was his best defense right now, especially when he couldn't say anymore than that in front of their driver. "Sir, I have Reddington sitting right beside me here, in custody. Our objective was met. And yes, I do regret the circus that ensued while doing so."

He heard Cooper sigh. "Just get back here as soon as you can for debriefing." The line went dead as Cooper hung up on him. Slipping his phone back in his pocket he looked at Reddington beside him, who for once, sat silently.

"I take it he's not too happy," said Liz, and Ressler looked silently at her, not needing to confirm that.

Their convoy drove through the city streets on their way out to the airport, their red and blue lights flashing as they transported their 'notorious' prisoner. At each intersection they passed through, Police cars had stopped the traffic, the red and blue lights from their cruisers lighting up the night. Ressler looked out at them as they drove by, watching the officers tipping their hats to them. They were congratulating them on their capture tonight. He felt sick. And it had nothing to do with his throbbing face and light headedness. They had lied. Those officers really believed they had caught Number 4 on the FBI's Most Wanted List - and that wasn't sitting well with him. And when he looked across Red to Liz, her eyes met his and he could see she echoed his sentiments.

Between them, Red looked to each of them in turn, smiling faintly. Ressler wasn't sure, but he thought Number 4 had just apologized to them.

###

As they approached the airport, a police escort pulled in front of them, leading them through the busier roads around the terminal. All that did was make Ressler's heart sink further as their convoy increased in size. The sooner they got on the plane and back to DC the better. Even facing Cooper was preferable to how this felt.

Pulling through gates near the cargo end of the airport, they entered an area that was dark and quiet, away from the bustle and lights of the main terminal. As they pulled up near a hangar, they could see their jet out on the tarmac ready for boarding. A couple of agents stood by in blue FBI jackets, waiting for them near the jet.

Red and blue lights played against the white walls of the hangar, lighting up the area as Ressler opened the door and motioned to Red. Liz, keeping up appearances, was already out of the car with her weapon trained on their prisoner. From the car in front of them, two of their armed team members jogged back to them, and between them, they led Red to the steps of the plane. Ressler held onto Red's arm as the criminal dutifully let him lead him to the plane. He glanced at Red. There were no smart quips coming from him now.

The air had a cool bite to it, and Ressler shivered suddenly under his light jacket as they approached the steps to the plane. The two agents stepped forward to meet them, introducing themselves. "Agents Campbell and Young, sir, Columbus Field Office. With your permission, we've been assigned to escort your second prisoner back to DC." They looked across as Dembe was brought out of his vehicle, being led to the plane.

Ressler nodded to the men, and the agents bringing Dembe up handed him off to Campbell.

Once on board, they secured Red near the middle of the plane, cuffing him to a bar beside the seat. Ressler sat across from Red, while Liz took the seat across the aisle. Their small party grew as agents Campbell and Young brought Dembe on board and took up seats around him.

"Everyone on board?" asked Ressler and Campbell nodded.

"Yes sir. Just us tonight."

"Then let's go before the TV cameras find us." Ressler was watching cars and a TV crew pulling through the gates. Their convoy had been followed at a distance, and he was eager to be gone from this place.

Campbell pulled the door of the plane closed, securing it, then banged twice on the pilot's locked door to signify their readiness to leave. As they rolled out onto the runway, they saw the TV news behind them, hurriedly setting up cameras to film Number 4 being taken away.

Ressler settled back in the seat, and closed his eyes as the jet hurtled down the runway before lifting up into the air. The city lights below them now, he watched for a few minutes as they climbed into the night sky before reaching their cruising altitude. Watching the city lights from the air brought back the memory of his previous flight in a Learjet, on his way back from Sitka. The night he'd been in withdrawal agony having run out of pills. At that memory, he glanced across at Liz, and found her smiling at him. They still couldn't talk freely, not with the Columbus agents at the front of the plane. But truth be told, Ressler didn't really feel like talking.

Red was very quiet. Apparently he didn't feel much like talking either. In the silence of the plane, Ressler rested his head back on the seat for a few moments, the pressure from the altitude causing the pain in his throbbing face to intensify. And of course, that also made him think of pain pills. But he had to hand it to himself. He hadn't thought about them for hours. Which was hardly surprising, with the complete mess the night had become.

He was interrupted from his rest with his phone vibrating with a text from Aram. Pulling it out of his coat pocket, he read the text. Swallowing hard, he read the text again. He glanced at Liz, who was watching him curiously. He hit 'forward' on his phone, sending the text to her, and watched her as she read it. She looked up at him in alarm, and he shook his head, motioning her to be quiet. He looked down at Aram's text and reread it.

[Agent Campbell and Agent Young from the Columbus Field Office were just found bound and gagged at the airport you just took off from!]

Ressler replied to the text, forwarding a copy to Liz also. [but campbell and young are on the plane with us] And as he hit Send, he couldn't squash the feeling of dread, knowing what Aram's answer was going to be.

Aram's reply came back almost instantly. [Then I don't know who is on the plane with you, but they are not FBI agents.]


	3. Change of Course

Ressler forwarded Aram's text to Liz, and after reading it, she met his eyes and touched her gun lightly. He nodded in confirmation. Knowing that 'Campbell' and 'Young' had replaced the real FBI agents, he was faced with two options. Bide his time, and wait for them to be arrested on landing in DC – or move first. He chose the latter. And as his eyes met Liz's across the aisle, he held up three fingers. A countdown. Liz knew what he needed and quietly released her seatbelt, then reached for her sidearm, and watched as Ressler dropped a finger. Two. He had his seatbelt off and weapon drawn also and dropped another finger. One. She was watching his hand, ready, and the second he formed a fist, she was up out of her seat.

He was faster though and already out of his seat, gun drawn. He lurched against the back of his seat with dizziness, then righted himself almost immediately as he stood up. With Liz right behind him they ran to the front of the 10 seater jet, weapons drawn.

"Hands in the air!" Ressler shouted to the two 'agents', but he was too late.

The two men had seen them coming and were out of their seats in seconds, guns drawn. Standing in the aisle of the jet, they faced each other. Ressler grimaced, kicking himself for how slow he'd been with the light headedness. A second or two earlier and he'd have had the drop on these guys.

"Agents Ressler and Keen. How astute of you," said Campbell, "but I'm afraid it's all quite pointless."

"Drop your weapons!" Ressler told him, knowing it was useless. They were at a standoff. And common sense told him none of them should be firing weapons inside this small hollow tube of metal at this altitude. A fact not missed by Reddington behind them.

"As invigorating as all this firepower and bravado is, may I suggest a back down by both parties, before we enter that realm of breathlessness brought about by depressurization? I for one have had quiet enough excitement for one day without having to fly on oxygen while freezing off my nether regions for the remainder of this flight."

Campbell looked at Ressler. "Your prisoner raises a valid point. However, he doesn't know all the facts. Allow me to enlighten you."

Liz slipped in behind one of the large recliner seats, giving her room to stand shoulder to shoulder with Ressler as they continued to keep their weapons on the two men in front of them. "The only fact we need to know is that when we land in DC, you will be arrested. I don't know who you-"

"We are not flying to DC. A change of course is about to be initiated." Campbell cut him off smoothly. He motioned back to Young, and the man moved to the door to the cockpit and knocked heavily on it. "Open this door!"

"We are heading for DC," Ressler again insisted, keeping his eyes on Campbell while Young again rapped on the locked door.

"You really don't appreciate the talents of my employer. I believe you call him the Bombmaker. Seriously, that was the best you could come up with?"

Ressler had to agree with him on that, but stood firm, clenching his teeth, gun raised in front of him. "I said lower your weapons."

"Enough. I'm going to tell you how this is going down. We are currently flying to Washington DC on a heading of 110, or thereabouts. This plane will turn to a heading of 32, and then head to Rochester.

Ressler's eyes flickered to Young as he again banged on the cockpit door. "Doesn't look like it, pal. Not if you can't get in the cockpit," he said, feeling like things might turn their way after all.

Ressler didn't know what Campbell was playing at, but he wasn't about to let that happen. He took a step closer and raised his weapon higher, now in line with Campbell's head. "We are going to Washington, DC," he told the man through gritted teeth.

"Agent Ressler. This is not open for discussion." Campbell looked briefly at Young banging on the door, and down at his watch which had been set to a timer. "We are going to change our heading in the next four minutes," said Campbell evenly, but sweat had sprung out on his upper lip. Ressler saw it, as did Liz.

"Why four minutes?" Liz asked from slightly behind Ressler.

"Because in four minutes, the bomb on this plane will detonate."

Ressler heard Liz's sharp intake of breath, but he kept his eyes on Campbell. "You're bluffing."

"The moment we reached 500 feet on takeoff, the bomb was armed. The timer was set for fifteen minutes and if the heading is still between 100 and 120 degrees when the timer runs out, the bomb will go off."

Ressler took a half step closer toward Campbell, grimaced and shook his head at the man.  _Let me guess… 'Speed' was your favorite movie_ … "I don't believe you," Ressler told him, staring into Campbell's eyes. But although he'd told him that, he was still trying to read the man. There was no doubt he was nervous. The sweat on his upper lip had now increased, and Campbell quickly wiped sweat from his forehead.

Red spoke up again. From his position in the rear he couldn't see Campbell, but he knew when discretion was the better part of valor. "Agent Ressler, I believe you may have to play nice with the man. He seems to have the upper hand."

Liz had also been studying Campbell and had now reached a different conclusion to Ressler. Apart from the nervous sweating, the tell was in the way Campbell's eyes were moving now, compared to earlier. Campbell was telling the truth. "Ress," she told him quietly, "I don't think he's bluffing…"

"Three minutes," said Campbell, then looked over at Young, who had for now stopped banging on the cockpit door.

"Donald." Red called determinedly to him from behind him, but Ressler didn't turn.  _Damn it._ He had no choice. While Ressler didn't believe there was a bomb on board, there was no denying Campbell's nervousness.

"Fine." He withdrew his weapon, held it up and Campbell took it from his hand. Gritting his teeth and grimacing, he looked at Liz and nodded reluctantly. She gave up her weapon to him also. "I see you do have some common sense." He glanced back at Young and nodded then turned back to Ressler and Liz.

"Let's just hope it's not too late."

Young banged on the locked pilot's door again. "Open up!" The door didn't open. Campbell looked at his watch. "Two minutes." He went and banged on the door himself. "Open this door! NOW!"

The door still didn't open. Beside Ressler, Liz's breathing increased and she instinctively moved a step behind Ressler, almost touching him as she peered out from behind his left arm. Dropping his head a moment, he glanced at her, and gave her a thin smile. "Ress…we need to do as they say. They truly believe a bomb is…"

She didn't finish. Ressler had been watching the demeanor of the two men in front of him. And with the way they were frantically banging on the door finally convinced Ressler that there was a bomb. Or at the very least, that Campbell and Young believed there was a bomb. He sprang forward away from Liz and banged on the door himself.

"This is Agent Ressler! Open this door!"

From behind the door, he heard a thin voice call out, "Sir, FFA regulations state I cannot-"

"Screw FFA regulations! Open this door now! This is an emergency!" Ressler yelled, leaning his ear on the door to ascertain if the pilot was moving. He heard something, then the catch on the door released. Ressler barged into the cockpit, with Campbell right behind him.

"One minute."

Ressler looked at the man giving his countdown, finding it incomprehensible that just 3 minutes ago, he'd been holding this man at gunpoint, and yet now they were united in a common goal. Either he was making the best decision of his life, or the worst. And with one minute to find out, he couldn't spare the time to think about that right now. He leaned down to the pilot with Campbell right beside him in the crowded cockpit.

"Change your heading to 32 degrees, now!" Ressler urged the man, who was looking up at them with trepidation.

"Sir…?"

Campbell was more forceful than Ressler, and whipped out his gun, pressing it against the pilot's temple. "Turn your heading to 32 degrees, or I'll blow your head off and do it for you."

With a shaking hand, the pilot reached out to the dial, and slowly turned it. The plane immediately pitched and rolled to the left, causing Ressler to hang onto the back of the pilot's seat to steady himself. He was watching the compass heading.

87 degrees.

"Keep turning! We need 32 degrees!" he stressed and the pilot nodded fearfully, Campbell's gun now pointed at him but no longer on his temple, as he looked at his watch.

"30 seconds. We're not going to make it in time."

_Shut up! I don't need you to tell me that!_

Liz was in the doorway now, and caught Ressler's eyes momentarily.  _I know Liz…_  She held onto the door frame as the plane continued its hard turn.

"Is there some leeway on that heading?" demanded Ressler, and Campbell nodded.

"10 degrees either side."

They watched the dial as the plane continued banking hard to the left, the pitch of the engines racing at the hard turn being executed.

62 degrees.

"20 seconds."

Ressler could have strangled the guy with his eternal countdown. "Come on, come on, come on…" he whispered under his breath, hanging onto the pilot seat as the man continued turning the plane.

48 degrees.

"10 seconds."

Ressler seriously wished the guy would shut the hell up. "Keep turning!" Ressler urged the pilot, and Campbell, who had since withdrawn his weapon clung to the copilot's seat, looking between his watch and the compass heading.

"Time's up!" yelled Campbell and Ressler looked at the dial.

42 degrees.

They waited, holding their breaths collectively, waiting for an explosion.

None came.

Ressler looked at the dial, still urging the pilot to keep turning, as it steadily turned and settled on 32 degrees. Exhaling heavily, he turned to Liz behind him to find her hurriedly brushing tears away. He looked apologetically into her eyes, licking his bottom lip, then back to the pilot. The poor man was shaking badly and sweating. Ressler leaned around to him.

"Keep it on 32 degrees. We cannot go above 42 or below 22. And don't ask why because I don't want to give you any more reason to have a heart attack." He patted the man's shoulder again, then stood up and turned his attention to Campbell.

"Now you're going to tell me what is waiting for us when we land on this heading."

Campbell was quickly regaining his former bravado, now that the bomb had been deactivated. "The one you so unimaginatively refer to as The Bombmaker is waiting to take delivery of your prisoner, nicely packaged up and personally delivered."

Ressler shook his head again, and smiled humorlessly. "They know we changed course. They're tracking us. You know they'll meet us in Rochester."

"Oh, I think not, Agent Ressler. It's difficult to track a plane that's had its transponder deactivated."

###

As Ressler left the cockpit, he and Liz headed back to their seats but were stopped by Young standing in the aisle.

"Your phones," he said firmly, holding out his hand.

"Now, why would we do that?" Ressler asked him.

"Because if you don't," Young pulled his gun and aimed it at Dembe, "I'll just put a bullet in this man's skull."

Ressler looked to his left down at Dembe, seeing that he hadn't moved a muscle. Even with a gun pointed at him, the quiet soul of the man was unfazed.

"You mean the guy who almost broke my nose?" Ressler stepped up to Young facing him down with his 'edgy' look, as Liz now referred to it.

"Enough with the guns, Young, we're on a damn plane." Campbell stepped from the cockpit and admonished his partner in crime. Young clenched his teeth and dropped the weapon.

"We still need your phones though," said Campbell and Ressler turned to face him. The man was really pushing his buttons tonight.

Liz was watching her partner, seeing the anger brewing beneath the surface. "Ress…" Liz's quiet voice reached him.

He hesitated, then sighed and nodded to Liz, and both of them handed their phones to Young. But he didn't keep them. Lifting the backs off their phones, he removed the SIM cards from each, replaced the backs, then tossed their phones back to them.

Ressler faced the man a moment longer. His look said it all.  _If and when this situation changes, you are toast, pal._ He then motioned to Liz to head back to their seats. "With your permission, of course," he said caustically to Young. When Young didn't answer, Ressler took that as an affirmative.

As he slumped down in his seat across from Red, the criminal looked up at him, tilting his head a little. "For what it's worth, Donald, I believe you made the right choice," he told the agent quietly.

_Oh, that makes me feel so much better._

But actually, as he turned and looked out the window watching silently as they flew over a large city that had to be Pittsburgh, he realized it actually did help.

But only a little.

And his brain, finally with 'nothing' to do, decided at that moment to start demanding he take some pain pills to really make everything feel better. Leaning against the window, with his head throbbing and his brain doing the pill popping tango, he closed his eyes against it all.

And across from him, Red watched the agent with concern.

###

Ressler was jolted awake by the plane suddenly dropping a few feet violently, banging his head on the hard surface of the window. Grabbing his throbbing head, he looked dizzily across at Liz and met her startled look with his own.

Across from him, it wasn't lost on Red who Ressler had checked on first. "It's just turbulence, Donald. It happens sometimes in these small jets. Well, when the weather isn't cooperating at least." He'd no sooner got that out when the plane hitched again, dropping another few feet.

"I know what turbulence is Reddington. And this is more than regular turbulence."

And in complete confirmation, there came an "Oh my God!" from Campbell as he stood looking through the cockpit door, gripping the door frame tightly against the movement of the plane.

Ressler was out of his seat, trying to ignore how light headed he felt. Running ungainly down the aisle to the cockpit and being thrown about as the plane lurched again he yelled back to Liz. "Stay in your seat!" But there was no way she was obeying that. Not when he was hurtling to the front of the plane to see what the heck was going on.

Campbell had relocated to the cockpit when Ressler reached it and as he sprang into the confined space he saw the pilot fighting with the controls. But what took his breath away was the sight in front of them. It wasn't rain. It wasn't a thunderstorm. It was snow. Thick, wet heavy snow that was covering the windshield almost faster than the wipers could keep up. Lit by the lights of the plane, it swirled around them in an impenetrable white blanket.

"We need to turn out of this!" the pilot was yelling and Ressler dragged his eyes off the horrifying white spectacle out the window and looked at the man.

"We can't turn any further to the east than 42 degrees! And let's make it 40 degrees to allow for a margin of error!" Campbell shouted at the pilot

"That's not enough! This is lake effect snow coming off Erie! We have to turn back and get out of this!"

"No! You can't turn-"

Campbell was interrupted as the plane dropped sickeningly, and with no seat belts on, Ressler, Liz and Campbell were physically lifted off their feet and dropped hard to the floor of the plane. As Ressler hit the floor he heard Liz cry out, and turning as his head spun dizzily, he saw blood running down the side of her face.

Regaining his feet, he climbed over Campbell, grabbed her shoulders and herded her to the seat across the aisle from Dembe. "Sit down!" Strapping her in, he leaned down, moved her hair out the way and tried to check where the bleeding was coming from. But the jet lurched again and all he could do was hang on to her seat to steady himself as he fell into her and she grabbed his arm to hold him.

"I'm fine!" she yelled in his ear. "It looks worse than it is!"

With the way the plane was pitching, he couldn't check on her anyway without possibly poking an eye out, so had no choice but to leave her be. Hauling himself up on the back of her seat, then gripping the door frame, he entered the cockpit again and clung to the back of the co-pilot's seat. Half the windshield was now covered in snow. And Ressler was no expert, but even he knew that so much snow and ice piling up on a plane with all those flaps was not good. Campbell was yelling at the pilot again.

"We cannot turn this plane! The bomb will detonate if you go past 42 degrees east!"

Ressler had kept that information from the pilot earlier, and now the pilot reacted in stunned silence, staring at Campbell. As he did so, he stopped fighting the controls and the plane pitched forward, the nose of the plane lower than the belly now.

"And we're all dead anyway if I keep heading into this mess!"

Ressler heard the fear in the pilot's voice, and looked at the controls. They meant nothing to him, but he understood red warning lights when he saw them. An alarm sounded, filling the cockpit.

The plane was losing altitude. The digital altimeter was running backward as the plane dropped, the weight of the snow now interfering with the aerodynamics. Grabbing the back of the seat as the plane dropped another 6 feet, Ressler tried to steady himself as the pilot turned and yelled at them.

"Get back to your seats!"

"No sir! I don't trust you to stay on this course!" yelled Campbell.

Desperately, the pilot sought to lift the nose of the plane. "She's not responding!" I can't stop the descent!"

He looked at them both still standing there. "And I said sit down!"

Ressler had to hand it to him. As bad a night as the pilot had had, he was now asserting his position as captain of this jet. And he did exactly as the pilot had said, and sat down - in the co-pilots seat. Strapping himself in, he looked at the white monster swirling outside the windows, then down at their heading.

Both he and Campbell yelled out to the pilot in unison. "41 degrees!"

"Turn! Back to the north! Turn it!" Ressler yelled across to him. And sitting in the co-pilots seat, with never having flown in his life he almost took the controls himself. But common sense prevailed and rather than make the situation worse he concentrated on yelling at the pilot instead.

Dragging on the barely responding controls now, the pilot managed to get their heading back to 35 degrees. "Close enough!" said Campbell, and patted the pilot on the shoulder.

"We're still losing altitude!" And as Ressler heard the pilot yell, the plane plummeted as a new, louder alarm rang out. Not just a few feet. It dropped hard. Campbell, still out of his seat hit the roof of the plane solidly and dropped to the floor, knocked out completely behind them.

Leaning back in his seat against the pressure, Ressler heard the pilot yelling at him. "Pull back! Pull back on the controls!" Realizing the pilot needed his help, Ressler didn't wait to be asked again and grabbed the controls between his knees. Watching the pilot as he did so, he positioned his hands in the same way and pulled the controls back toward him. The resistance was unbelievable.

"Pull back! We need to lift the nose!"

The plane was still hurtling downward, so fast that Ressler couldn't even keep up with altimeter. Behind him, he heard Liz scream.

And that was all it took.

Straining with all his might, he pulled the controls back, feeling them moving now and immediately feeling a change in the plane.  _Keep pulling back!_  Feeling the muscles about to pop in his arms and shoulders, he kept pulling back and slowly but surely, he felt the descent slowing.

"Come on! Come back up!" the pilot yelled at the plane, and Ressler was suddenly in awe of the man. He'd been fighting these controls for twice as long yet showed no sign of weakening as he pulled them back up. The altimeter was still rolling backwards but was slowing now. Ressler could finally read the numbers as he kept pulling back on the controls.

But he noticed something else. As they slowed their descent, lifting the nose of the jet, their air speed was slowing. Even a complete novice like him knew that couldn't be good. "We're slowing!"

"I know! I know! Keep pulling back!"

Ressler did as he was told, and felt something threatening to rip in his left shoulder as he did so. The formerly dislocated shoulder was still weaker than his right shoulder.  _Damn it! Not now!_

He closed his eyes against the claustrophobic whiteness covering the windows, and kept pulling back. As he did so, alarms continued to sound. For the second time this evening, he found himself in a surreal situation that seemed like it would never end.

Behind him, Liz screamed again as the plane lurched. As the plane righted itself, she tore a look at Dembe, seeing that he'd almost broken his handcuffed arm with that jolt. "We need to uncuff them!" she yelled over to Young, who had remained silent, sitting back in his seat while fiercely gripping the armrests. He looked at her silently.

"We can't keep them cuffed like this! Damn it!" Liz unbuckled her belt, and hanging on to the back of the chair she fished her cuff keys out of her pocket. Sliding on the floor, she pushed herself off from her seat and caught the back of Dembe's chair, almost falling. His arm shot out and grabbed her arm, catching her in time. Letting him balance her, she leaned down and quickly released the cuff from around his other wrist. His dark eyes looked at her in silent thanks.

Leaving his side, she ran as best she could down the aisle, falling into one of the seats as the plane continued to hit severe turbulence. Red watched her approaching him, and called out.

"Stay where you are. Just sit down and strap yourself in Li… Agent Keen." Even in this situation, it paid to keep the charade going.

She ignored him, righting herself and grabbing the seat in front of him as she reached his side. Slumping down quickly in the chair across from him, she reached for his cuffed wrist, noticing it was already turning purple with fresh bruises, and released the shackle. Strapping herself in quickly, she looked at Red in horror as the plane hit another air pocket, still descending too fast. He immediately reached for her hands, and together they faced each other as he leaned forward to her. "It will be okay Lizzie." He told her softly in her ear.

At the front of the plane, Dembe watched as his boss was freed and then closed his eyes in silent prayer.

###

In the cockpit, Ressler was waiting for his arm to literally tear out of its socket. The weak left shoulder was screaming under the onslaught of pulling the controls back. And just when he thought it was going to rip out, the controls slackened and the pilot yelled out. "There she goes! She's level!"

Cautiously, Ressler opened his eyes, and looked at the altimeter. That couldn't be right! "2200 feet? We're only 2000 feet off the ground?!" Last time he'd checked the altitude they were at about 11,000 feet.

"Yes!" The pilot grappled with the controls and now reached up and flipped the cover off a switch. A new alarm sounded as he flipped the switch. He looked at Ressler, wild eyed and sweating with the exertion and said the three words Ressler was SO hoping he wasn't going to hear tonight.

"Brace for impact!"

_Oh my God._

The pilot yelled into his mic so they heard him in the main cabin. "Brace for impact! Brace! Brace!"

"No!" screamed Liz, and Red immediately reached for her, holding her head down as he embraced her tightly. Through her tears, she heard him talking softly to her. Comforting her. Encouraging her. Holding her.

In the cockpit, Ressler stared in disbelief as the altimeter kept dropping. The nose of the plane was lifting now. More warning lights lit up on the dash, and yet another alarm rang out.

"She's stalling! We're losing the engines!" he heard the pilot yell out, but all Ressler could focus on now was the windshield. Now covered in snow and a buildup of ice, he couldn't see a thing outside.

"500 feet!" yelled the pilot, bringing Ressler's eyes back to the control panel. And as he said it, the engines ceased turning and went silent.

They were in free fall.

"Oh God. Oh God." Was all he could say and closed his eyes. If he was about to die in a plane crash, he wanted to die thinking good thoughts. And in his minds eye, he reached for Audrey and held her tight. Almost felt her arms reaching for him as the plane plunged downward. He didn't realize he was in tears as he called her name.

"Impact! Impact!"

The plane was eerily quiet now that the engines were gone, save for the alarms blaring. And then almost all the downward momentum stopped suddenly. As Ressler was thrown forward in the shoulder belts, something popped in his left shoulder and he screamed in pain. The underbelly of the plane struck the tree canopy, the force of the impact snapping branches around them like twigs. Still in a forward motion, the wings twisted like tin foil and tree branches separated the wings from the fuselage in a shrieking, rending sound of metal against metal.

Something was demanding attention in Ressler's brain, and in an instant, he remembered. His eyes flew open, as he looked at their heading. The nose of the plane had turned from their course and was now facing east.

The heading read 74 degrees.

_The bomb! Why didn't the bomb…?!_

He couldn't articulate the thought and heard Liz screaming in the distance as the cockpit lights flickered and went out, plunging them into darkness. Beside him, the pilot let out a god awful cry in the dark as the plane shuddered against the trees, unable to completely slow the forward momentum. Ressler couldn't move from his seat. The sound of cracking branches reached him as he lurched forward, feeling the seatbelt cutting into him, causing fresh pain to ignite in his left shoulder. Shutting his eyes tight as tree branches whipped against the windows, glass was flying everywhere. Covering his face with his arms, his left shoulder barely able to move, he tried to protect himself. And without the windshield to protect them, thick wet snow pummeled into him now, streaming into the cockpit and soaking him.

Sliding headlong through the trees, the plane was still dropping, and in one last perilous motion it fell from the treetops. Dropping the last few yards, snapping more tree branches in its final throes of descent, the fuselage thudded to a stop in the thick blanket of snow.

As the plane hit the ground, Ressler's head slammed into the broken window beside him, and he felt blood streaming down the side of his head. Snow piled in through the broken window as they slid to a stop and buried themselves in a snow bank. The last thing Ressler heard was the pilot's guttural cry beside him. Liz had stopped screaming, and that terrified him more than when she was screaming.  _Liz!_

Spots swam before his eyes as unconsciousness drew him downward. Struggling to stay awake, grappling for the seat belt with his one good arm, he was unable to free himself from the seat.

He couldn't hear anyone except the pilot and didn't know if anyone else had survived.

As he felt himself entering that familiar dark void, his mind tried to comprehend that they had just crash landed into a stark white landscape.

And as he passed out completely, he realized that no one knew where they were.


	4. Confined

Raymond Reddington had just survived his second plane crash. The first one had been many years ago under entirely different circumstances. And while technically the first one had been a chopper crash, he wasn't going to quibble about the details. In those first few moments after the jet had finally come to rest after it had careened through the treetops and been unceremoniously dumped on the ground, he found himself counting his blessings. Once more, he had escaped near death. A cat had nothing on Reddington. He'd survived so many times that to be relegated to just nine lives would have rendered him dead years ago.

And immediately after his silent thanks and contemplation on the manner of all things living and dead, he began to assess his current situation. It was dark. It was cold. And the wind was howling outside. Wiggling fingers and toes, and subsequently moving each joint didn't produce too much pain, though his left wrist was most definitely announcing its displeasure. So, no broken bones, apparently. Carefully moving his head and neck, he felt another head near his. Lizzie. Opening his eyes, he saw nothing. It was pitch black. Lifting his hand he felt Liz's head, gently moving around to her temples and felt the stickiness that could only signify blood. Her face had been bleeding before the crash though, he recalled.

"Lizzie," he whispered in her ear, as if to speak aloud in the darkness would break something, and cause the plane to plummet more. She didn't answer. And not wanting to move her, he then did call out into the darkness. For the one that was always there. For the one who was more a son to him than any living human being.

"Dembe."

The answer came immediately. So close that it startled him. His loyal Dembe had already left his seat at the front of the plane having fumbled his way through the darkness and was already at Red's side. He just didn't know it yet, until Red spoke.

"Raymond. I am here." And reaching out his hand, he felt his bosses shoulder, and in the darkness the two men clasped hands.

###

"Donald!"

_What…?_

"Donald, wake up."

_Why…? I'm cold… why am I cold…?_

"Unstrap him Dembe. "

_Red… I don't…_ Ressler felt himself falling forward as the seat belt was released, and was alarmed when he fell into cold, wet snow. His face was buried in it, and for a moment he was sure he was outside - and sure he was going to drown in the stuff. Struggling to breathe with snow in his mouth and nose he panicked, unable to rise. But then hands were on his shoulders, pulling him back upright. And as they gripped his left shoulder, pain shot through it and he gasped so fast that he sucked in a mouthful of wet snow. Choking on it, he coughed painfully in the dark, each hack sending a shudder through his shoulder and tears down his cheeks. He was still unsure of what was going on.  _Am I inside or outside?_

"Donald. We need to get you out of here before you freeze to death, my friend." Red was close by. He could hear his voice and feel his presence to his left, but could see nothing in the darkness.

His coughing slowing now as blinding tears still streamed down his cheeks, he sat back, trying to catch his breath. The air was frigid, causing sharp pains in his lungs at each intake of air. He was shivering so hard, he'd almost stopped moving. His body instead locked up in one mass of painfully tensed muscles, aggravating the pain in his left shoulder.  _How cold is it…?_

Hands were on him now, as someone reached into his inner suit pocket and found what they were looking for. Light from his cell phone suddenly lit up the area, instantly chasing the inky blackness away. And as Red held the phone, Ressler saw immediately where he was and it all came flooding back.

"Oh God… oh God…," he panted, looking at the devastated cockpit. Snow had piled in through the shattered wind shield. Littered with tree debris, pine needles and broken glass, it filled half the cockpit. And where he'd fallen face first into the snow, the outline of half his face was traced in blood. Reaching his hand up to the right side of his face he felt cuts and sticky blood, but nothing major. His right ear hurt and feeling it carefully, he half expected to find a plastic deer tag attached to it.

Relieved his ear was still in one piece, he looked down at the front of him, finding his lower body buried under the heavy weight of the snow. The sight of it made him strangely claustrophobic, and when trying to move his legs produced nothing, he closed his eyes and told himself to calm down. It was just snow, he told himself, but snow shouldn't be inside!

"It's okay Donald…we'll get you out." Red was patting his shoulder - his left shoulder and he flinched away from that. He felt Dembe now, on his knees and digging the snow away from his left leg. As he worked, Ressler's brain finally started to wake up and started thinking broader afield than the cockpit around him.

"Liz! Is Liz okay?" He asked Red, wondering why the hell he hadn't asked about her sooner.

Red barely missed a beat, but Ressler noticed the brief pause. His brain was fully awake now. "She'll be okay. We all got banged up in the crash, but she'll be okay."

"BE okay? You mean she's not okay now?" Ressler asked, as Dembe freed his left leg from the snow. Moving to the other side, squeezing in the tight spot, he began to dig out Ressler's right leg in similar fashion.

"She should be fine Donald. No worse off than the rest of us. Though, Campbell is pretty bad. He has a broken leg, and several broken ribs. He's not the picture of health, that's for sure."

"The pilot?" Ressler looked beyond Red, but the light from the cell phone didn't travel that far, and he couldn't see the pilot.

"He's done for, I'm afraid…" Red sighed, and didn't shine the light in that direction.

Ressler felt his right leg lighten as the snow was dug from around him. As he made to climb out of the co-pilot's seat, they heard a low sound from the pilot in the seat beside him. Red immediately turned the phone light to the man. Ressler almost gasped at the sight, realizing how right Red's assessment was. The pilot was impaled in his seat, a snapped tree limb having come hurtling through the windshield and straight into his abdomen. He should have died instantly, yet by some quirk of fate, he had lasted longer. Perhaps because he still had one more thing to say.

Red leaned over to the man, surprised that against all odds he was alive, though barely. "Don't move," he told the pilot, making a futile attempt to appear as if his situation weren't dire.

Ressler was out of the co-pilot's seat, accomplishing a feat that would have been impossible if Dembe had not literally hauled him from it. His cold, wet legs didn't want to work after being encased in wet snow. Looking at the pilot, he saw the glaze over the man's eyes. He was not long for this world. And then amazingly, the pilot focused his gaze on Ressler and began to speak.

"…Julie…tell Julie…sorry… loved her…tell her…" he panted, barely audible over the wind outside.

Ressler stood by him on numb legs, almost leaning on Red for support, while looking at the pilot apologetically. "I don't know where…" he began, but Red stopped him.

"We will tell her. Rest assured, we will make sure she knows," he told the pilot calmly, giving the man his dying wish. Ressler glanced at Red, positive this wasn't the first time he'd done that for someone.

Behind the pilot's eyes, Ressler saw a glimmer of life as he whispered to Red, "…thank…you…" And once again, he looked at Ressler, and this time reached out a bloodied hand. Ressler didn't even hesitate and took the pilot's frigid hand in his own, barely able to feel him with how cold his own extremities were.

The pilot spoke again, whispering, but they could still hear his words. "…you…did good… sir…" he told Ressler, and took another ragged, panting breath. His last breath.

And as Ressler stood shakily in the cockpit holding the hand of the pilot, he looked into the pilot's eyes and once again watched someone die in front of him. It could have so easily been him. He could have been the one impaled to the co-pilots seat, struck down by a broken piece of tree that would normally have spent its life growing slowly and rising to the sky in a forest. Instead, becoming an instrument of death as a plane dropped from the sky.

"Rest in peace, sir…" he whispered, and then looked away, unable to look into those dead eyes and the ragged, bleeding hole in the man's abdomen a second longer.

Red gently closed the pilot's dead eyes, and then looked at Ressler as he patted the agent on the back. "Come on Donald, let's get you to where it's drier. Not much warmer, but definitely drier."

Supported by Dembe and walking on legs that were numb with cold, he staggered out of the cockpit as Red sealed the door behind them.

###

In the cabin, Ressler wasn't sure where Liz was in the dark. Their way illuminated by the glow from the phone, they moved forward in the cocoon of light, the darkness receding in front of them then closing back in behind them as they moved down the aisle.

Where-?" he started and Red interrupted, knowing exactly whose whereabouts he was asking for.

"She's back here." He led the way, passing by a quiet, sullen Young who didn't even acknowledge them. In the next seat, Campbell was half lying down, panting. Both had blankets on them. Apparently Red or Dembe were pretty good flight attendants. Ressler barely paid them any attention as the light from the phone left them behind in the dark.

Ressler fell down in the seat across from Liz, catching his breath at the pain in his shoulder as he did so. Leaning forward to look at her in the light from the phone, he could still see the blood on her face. It was dry now, forming a dark red river running down the side of her pale face. She was unconscious, covered in a blanket with her head resting on a small airline pillow. Ressler gently touched her knee with his freezing right hand, before looking up at Red.

"What's wrong… with her?" He asked, trying not to shiver. The solid tension in his muscles was giving way a little to complete shivering now that he was out of the frigid cockpit.

"She took a blow to the back of the head, which is why she's still out. Her right wrist is badly bruised. I'm not sure if it's broken yet," Red explained, leaning over to her and moving her hair from her forehead. "This was the first hit she received. It's superficial. There was a lot of blood, but nothing serious. She most likely has a concussion…and I'm sure you yourself are extremely familiar with how those feel."

"But she'll…she'll be okay…? How do you know…that she will…" he asked Red, shivering uncontrollably now.

Red smiled sympathetically and looked at Ressler sitting in his wet clothing, his suit and light jacket being no match for the cold. "Because I've seen this before. But right now, we need to get you out of these wet clothes or you'll freeze."

"I'm f…fine," Ressler told him, reaching for the outline of Liz's hand under the fold of the blanket.

"Donald. Let's not play the 'I'm fine' game, shall we? We found a whole cabinet full of fashionable FBI clothing. You need to change into dry clothes. Freezing to death isn't going to help Lizzie, now is it?" he bargained with the agent, gambling that the mention of Liz would get him moving. And he was right.

Almost.

"We need to… look around outside… first," he stubbornly told Red, unable to stop his teeth chattering now. If he was already wet, why not go out and see where they were, he reasoned.

"It's pitch black out there and the snow is still falling. Listen to that wind. There is a massive blizzard out there that would guarantee frostbite in minutes. We cannot go out there right now. For now, we are confined to the cabin. We are indeed fortunate that the plane held together as well as she did and that we have shelter, or we'd all be dead by morning."

Shivering, Ressler replied, "We still need to… know."

"Agreed. But not tonight, we don't. For now, all you need to do is get into some dry clothes." He reached down to help haul the shivering agent out of the seat before he could argue more.

Ressler knew Red was right. He just felt useless stuck in a dark, cold tube. Looking at Liz again and inwardly willing her to be alright, he sighed in frustration. Shivering, he hobbled to the back of the plane where they'd found the clothing. In the phone light, he found some sturdy pants and a polo t-shirt that would fit, and a warmer FBI jacket. Gotta hand it to the Feds to be prepared, he thought as Red flicked the light off, handed his phone back to him and let Ressler get changed in relative privacy in the dark.

Getting out of wet clothes in the dark proved to be a challenge with only one arm that worked. And after gasping and struggling for a while, trying to be quiet every time he wrenched his shoulder, Red's voice came out of the darkness.

"Agent Ressler, I take it you are hurt..." he hesitated, but then decided against adding 'again'.

"Yeah…"  _Of course I am._ "I'll be fine."

"Of course you will." Red's sarcastic yet concerned reply came to him in the dark.

And as Ressler finally got dressed and was pulling on the warm jacket, he stopped dead, remembering what he'd seen before the power had failed in the cockpit. Their heading was 74 degrees.

_The bomb didn't go off. Why didn't it go off?!_

Because it was never there to begin with, he reasoned, grimacing in the dark. None of this would have happened if he hadn't have let them change course.

"Damn it!" He turned his phone back on and lit up the area, seeing Red sitting across from Liz, peering in his direction with concern.

###

Having changed into dry clothes, Ressler immediately felt physically better despite the throbbing pain in his left shoulder. As long as he kept it still, it was bearable. He gingerly placed his left hand in the jacket pocket, using it as a makeshift sling. His hands were still frigid, and his legs were still slightly numb but his core was warmer now. As the shivers settled more, he walked unsteadily on feet that were still cold and leaned on the back of the seat Liz was in. She was still out cold, and that was worrying him immensely. Adjusting her blanket and tucking it around her more, he resisted the urge to cup her cheek in his cold hand, and turned to Red.

He might have been feeling better with being drier and warmer, but inwardly, he was fighting a losing battle to keep his anger under control. One of those wonderful side effects of Oxy he was learning to deal with each day. "We need to have a little…chat…with our friends at the front of the plane," he told Red guardedly.

Red nodded in return and got up from the seat, motioning for Dembe to stay with Liz. As they approached the two men, Campbell cried out in pain as he turned to see them heading back to them. Red sat across the aisle from Campbell, and Ressler sat across from Young, holding the phone so that all four of them were visible in its glow.

"I'm afraid we will probably have to reset your leg there, which is going to be extremely unpleasant and very painful," Red told Campbell, as Ressler felt a wave of déjà vu at his words.  _Good ole' Doctor Red._ But that's where his sympathy ended for the moment. He didn't waste time on pleasantries and offers to help the men.

"There was never a bomb on this plane," Ressler stated, looking pointedly at Campbell.

Panting in pain, Campbell shook his head. Ressler didn't know if he was agreeing that there wasn't a bomb, or telling him he was wrong. He stuck to his original tack with the injured man.

"You played us. And your leg wouldn't be broken, and my partner wouldn't be lying unconscious back there. None of us would be in this position if we had not changed course," he told the man, gritting his teeth as he spoke, trying in vain to control the anger that he knew was rising.

Campbell looked at him, his eyes burning with pain. "Yes, there is a bomb," he panted.

Ressler raised his voice, leaning closer to Campbell. "I told you before that I didn't believe you, and then I got sucked into the whole charade. And now I'm telling you that again," he grimaced at the man. The facts spoke for themselves.

Young turned to him then, "I can assure you there was a bomb, because I placed it." He regarded Ressler with thinly veiled disdain.

Ressler sprang from his seat, grabbing at the man's shirt with his right hand, gritting his teeth. "How can that be?! We are sitting at 74 degrees here, way past your 32 or 42 degree threshold. And we're still here. Barely." He exhaled heavily, regarding the man in front of him, his jaw set firmly.

"My, my, don't we have a temper. I thought they trained FBI agents better than that," taunted Young.

"Donald…" said Red patiently. Ressler ignored him, still facing Young down.

"Have you seen my partner back there?! She wouldn't be that hurt if it weren't for you, pal," he shot at Young, who regarded him carefully, a slight smile playing about his mouth.

"And have you seen my partner? His leg is shattered. Life's a bitch sometimes."

Ressler was about to offer a strong retort, when Red interrupted him. "While all this male posturing is terribly exciting, and really, I'd give you both a ruler if I had one near, I'm far more interested in where you placed the bomb."

He smiled a little, trying to defuse Ressler. "Because if it hasn't gone off, then chances are that it was in a part of the plane that is no longer attached. That would be the logical explanation."

"The front wheel well," Young said, still staring at Ressler. Ressler roughly let go of his shirt and backed up from him, glaring at the man.

Young looked over to Red, "It's right underneath us."

Ressler remained silent, leaning against the icy cold cockpit door as a means to force himself to concentrate on something else, as Red continued.

"Tell me about this bomb. How was it constructed?" he looked from one to the other, offering each the chance to tell him.

Campbell spoke up again, fighting the pain, "It's a tube of…" but he couldn't finish as waves of pain radiated over him from his broken leg.

Young continued, "It's a cylinder of clear gel, with a couple of wires, a compass and a watch mechanism on it. I don't know the technicalities. It was given to us to place. I placed it."

Trying to control his breathing, Ressler eyed Red as he took in that information. He was coming to the same conclusion when Red voiced it.

"Gel. A liquid bomb," said Red, nodding to himself. He looked up from his musing and met Ressler's eyes. "Well there you have it Donald. The gel has frozen. That's why it hasn't detonated."

Leaning against the cockpit door, his back freezing, Ressler realized that in a sick twist of irony, the snowstorm that had brought them down had just saved their lives.

_This just keeps getting better and better_.

"Well great, so as soon as this blizzard stops and the outside temperature starts to rise, at some point the only shelter we have will explode."  _And if we can't move Liz…_  Ressler couldn't finish that thought.

"Damn it. And damn both of you!" Ressler flung at Young and Campbell. Gritting his teeth he pulled himself up off the cockpit door, wrenching his left shoulder as he did so and gasping at the pain. And leaving them all in darkness he hauled himself down to the back of the plane to sit with Liz.

###

Ressler was sitting across from Liz looking at her unconscious form, the anger still bubbling within him.

And as he looked at Liz, he could hear her voice in his mind telling him he seemed a little edgy.  _Yes mom… Oh God…_

He didn't look at Red as he sat down across from them. Seemingly unable to sit silently, Red spoke up. "I understand why you're angry at this situation. But Donald, anger really isn't going to help."

He waited for Ressler to reply and when he didn't, he continued. "But if we are to get out of here, or at least survey our situation when daylight comes, we may need to pool the resources of every one us on board, including our friends at the front."

Ressler dropped his eyes from Liz and sighed.

"Donald, we will need their cooperation."

_Are you gonna cooperate? Please say no..._ And as he heard Liz again saying that he seemed a little edgy, for one insane moment he actually envied Red and his ability to remain calm in every situation and see allies in everything.

Seeing that Ressler wasn't going to talk about that, Red changed the subject. "How bad is your shoulder," he continued, in a softer tone, "You're favoring it and it's clearly in pain."

"I don't know," Ressler said truthfully. And it didn't matter, he thought, not when Liz was…down.

"Okay." Red wasn't going to push the point. "We looked for a First Aid Kit earlier and couldn't find one. Which seems strange, the way you Feds like to outfit your transportation for all contingencies."

"It's in the cockpit," he told Red. Having spent a fair bit of time in there during the flight, he had seen the Red Cross on one of the lower cabinets. And as he said it, the thought of going back in there in the vicinity of the dead pilot was not something he relished. But he'd do it to help Liz. He exhaled, pulled himself together, and rose from his seat.

"I'll go get it," he said and didn't wait for an answer. If it would help Liz, he'd find it. And Red sat back in his chair, pleased to have got Donald moving onto something positive.

As Ressler walked past Young and Campbell, he didn't say anything. But Campbell spoke up, and seemed to be a little more coherent.

"Hey, Fed. No hard feelings. I heard what Reddington said back there, bits of it. And he's right. So in the spirit of cooperation, if I can help, even with a banged up leg and ribs, I will.

_Oh, I think you've helped more than enough already._

And Liz's voice was immediately in his head.  _You seem a little edgy._  He stopped and looked back at Campbell. "Sure. Thanks." He didn't know if he meant that or not though. But he'd said it for Liz.

When he leaned against the cockpit door with his right shoulder, he took in a deep breath. Releasing the handle he stepped into the frigid cockpit and closed the door quickly behind him in the frigid cold space. Deliberately averting his light from the pilot's seat and its impaled contents, he kneeled down to the lower cabinets behind the seats. Finding the one he needed and hoping it wasn't locked, he pulled on the handle. Thankfully it opened and he quickly found what he was looking for.

With the white First Aid Kit in his hand, he was about to rise when his brain started yelling at him. Taking a shuddering breath, he stopped. Hesitating a moment, he closed his eyes.  _No!_  And unable to stop himself he then flipped the catch on the First Aid Kit to open it. He didn't know why. He didn't want to. But he did it anyway. He looked through it for pain pills.

_Damn it. Don't!_

And when he found them, he could have screamed. They were OxyContin. 4 foil sheets of 8 pills on each.  _No no no no…Close the lid. Close it. Close it._

And he did close it. But not before he'd taken a sheet of 8 OxyContin pills and shoved them in his right pocket.  _What are you doing?! Don't! _  
__

With the other three sheets of Oxy buried at the bottom of the First Aid Kit, he stood up, First Aid Kit in hand and fled from the cockpit.

###

If Red noticed a change in Ressler when he headed back to sit across from Liz, he kept it to himself. After handing the First Aid Kit to Red, and taking the blanket Red handed him he sat silently. Adjusting Liz's blanket and feeling her cheek to see if she was too cold (after rubbing his hands to warm them) he focused on her so that Red wouldn't focus on him.

The pills were almost burning a hole in his pocket, he was that acutely aware of them.  _I am Special Agent Donald Ressler, and I am NOT a junkie._

_Keep telling yourself that. Because from where I'm sitting…_

He wanted to shake Liz awake. To make her respond. To see her open her eyes and smile at him in that calming way she had. To make her laugh in the way she had at his 'I was amazing' comment. To make her look at him in the way she had when telling him 'It was' when faced with the terrifying prospect of living without him… Because all he could think when he looked at her laying there was the fear that he might be facing that prospect.

Leaning on the armrest with his right elbow, he rested his head in his hand, kneading his forehead with his knuckles against the pain behind his eyes. Trying to ease the tension. Trying to quell the screaming in his brain.

_I_ _'m not amazing. They're in my pocket again._

_I'm not amazing without you Liz…_


	5. Cooperation

Two hours later Ressler was still awake, sitting in the quiet plane listening to the wind howl outside. Red dozed in the seat across the aisle and the silence inside the downed plane was broken every so often with Campbell grunting in pain. His phone light had been on and off. He'd turn it off to conserve battery, until the darkness became so oppressive that he would almost suffocate under the weight of it and need to touch the screen and chase the darkness away.

The darkness had its benefits though. In the dark, he didn't have to keep his mask on and could contemplate his situation. In the dark, unable to pace as he normally would, he could grimace and clench his fists, and bite his knuckles in agonizing frustration as much as he liked, and no one need see. Of course all of them were in the same situation…he knew that…but he was pretty damn sure that no one else on board was being driven insane by 8 little pills.

_I am not a junkie…_ It had been weeks since he'd then he'd reach into his right pocket and feel the sheet of 8 pills, and knew that only junkies kept their stash that close.

And while he'd tell himself that there were still 8 pills in the foil sheet and that he hadn't taken any, the desire to do so was unrelenting. But the worst was when he'd look at Liz…and remember him promising her he wasn't going to take any more pills after pouring them down the sink. And here he was, sitting across from her with the pills eating his conscience alive.

And the internal battle continued, raging war throughout his body, both physically and mentally while sitting 2 feet from his unconscious partner. And suddenly he couldn't bear her not being there with him a moment longer and he moved forward in his seat. Turning the light down on his phone until it was barely on, he placed it on the armrest beside her. Leaning down to her, he stared at her still face for a moment, and then started gently patting her cheek with his right hand. His left hand was still shoved in his pocket to keep it immobilized. He didn't say anything, didn't whisper anything to her, for fear that Red would wake. And this was something he needed to do, between him and Liz. And aware of the close quarters of those around him in the dark, he kept as quiet as he could.

If he'd thought about it though, he'd have realized that even the sound of him patting her cheek was enough to wake the man who only ever dozed fitfully, longing to sleep like he slept as a boy just one more time. And across the aisle, Red did wake but kept his eyes closed and let Donald have his privacy. It was definitely time that Lizzie woke, and it was good that Donald was now trying.

_Liz…wake up…_ He kept gently patting her cheek, feeling her soft skin beneath his hand. She wasn't moving. And her cheek was cold. But he was also cold, whatever heat having been in the cabin having long since dissipated. Tears sprang to his eyes and he blinked them back. Beginning to pat a little harder, he tapped both her cheeks now, leaning close to her.  _Please Liz…you need to wake up…_ And still she didn't move.

And without even thinking about it, he leaned into her and kissed her forehead, willing her to wake up. He stopped patting and gently held her cheek, his lips still on her forehead.  _Please Liz…please…_ He pulled back again, and continued patting her cheek, his face inches from hers.  _Come on Liz…you can do it…_ Tears filled his eyes again and he had a harder time blinking them back. One escaped, rolling down his cheek. He didn't take time to brush it away. He patted her face with a little more pressure now, needing her to wake up.

And imperceptibly, her eyes moved. His breath catching, he stopped patting and kept his hand cupping her cheek.  _Liz…wake up…come on…_  His thumb moved gently on her cheek, as her eyes moved again. Leaning into her he studied her eyes, seeing them moving more under her eyelids now.

"Come on Liz…come on…" he whispered in her ear, right next to her now, no longer caring if Red woke. "Wake up Liz…"

And slowly her eyes opened, unfocused, but they were open. He leaned back a few inches to look at her, his hand still on her cheek, gently stroking her cool skin with his thumb. "Liz," he whispered to her, "It's okay…"

Blinking rapidly she managed to focus on him close by her. "Where…?" she panted.

"We're in the plane…remember…?" he whispered gently and as he watched her eyes, he saw the blankness, and then saw the moment recognition overtook her.

"Yes!" she moved her head slightly, wincing at the pain that brought about. His hand still cupping her cheek, her tears began to roll over his thumb. And as he gently wiped them away, she spoke again, "We went down! We crashed!" she gasped, looking at him in horror.

He nodded to her, trying to reassure her. "We did…but we're actually pretty well off. The plane is largely intact… minus the wings," he said softly. He felt it best not to mention the part about the unexploded bomb under their feet.

"No… Ress, no…" she was crying hard now. Grabbing his blanket off his seat, he moved to her side and gently scooted her over so there was room for him to sit. Dropping his right arm around her shoulders he pulled her into him and held her tight with their blankets around them as she cried.

As his head rested gently beside hers, her tears slowed as the initial shock receded now. She whispered to him in the soft glow of his phone. "Is everyone else…?" She couldn't finish the sentence, dreading the answer if they were the only survivors.

He smiled, for the first time in hours, and gave her the rundown on everyone. As he gave her the status of each person, she nodded gently, and looked up at him when he told her about the pilot. "Oh my gosh…that's so awful… and so sad…" and Ressler had to agree with her on that.

"And we don't know where we are?" she whispered, and he shook his head at that. "At first light we'll be able to get out and see. Assuming the snow has stopped by then…"

"How do you feel?" he asked her, moving his head to look at the blood on her face.

"My head is aching and my wrist hurts…but I think I'm okay…" she answered slowly.

"Is your wrist broken?" he whispered, and she moved her blanket down to look. Gasping in pain, she slowly moved her fingers. "Doesn't look like it is…" he said softly and she nodded, shivering as she covered herself in her blanket again.

"It's so cold!" she shivered and he moved his arm around her more.

"Damn cold," he agreed, smiling at her, and still holding back on telling her that right now, that was a good thing.

"How about you…are you okay?" she asked, looking up at him.

And the pills suddenly felt huge in his pocket as she asked that, but he just couldn't…break… this right now. He met her eyes. "I'm okay. Well, I hurt my left shoulder again, but it's not dislocated… this time." And as he met her eyes, pills were suddenly pushed to the back of his mind as they both thought the same thing. And in their minds, they were both back on a rain soaked mountain as Red attempted to set his dislocated shoulder, smiling together at the memory. And as her smile turned to a grin, he finally saw the smile he'd been desperate to see all evening.

"So you won't be needing my distraction technique?" she asked him.

And as she grinned at him, an impulsive recklessness and complete abandonment of his guard came over him as his answering smile lit up his eyes. "Oh, I don't know," he whispered to her, "I might need distracting again..."  _You're flirting with her…_

"Agent Ressler, are you flirting with me?" she whispered, smiling broadly now.

"Not at all," he teased, his smile lighting up his face in a way she found utterly charming, coming so unexpectedly from him, "I'm freezing my butt off, and just want you near me to keep me warm."

She chuckled against him, and under the blanket she slipped her arm around him and snuggled further into him as she shivered, "I'll keep you warm…if you'll keep me warm…" she whispered, closing her eyes.

And he really didn't know how she did it, but he finally felt better than he had in hours. He smiled, rested his head on the back of the seat beside hers, turned off his phone and closed his eyes. And they fell asleep holding each other, keeping as warm as they could under their blankets.

And across the aisle, Red smiled in the dark and dozed off again.

###

When Ressler woke the next time, the first thing he noticed was the diffuse pale blue light throughout the cabin. In comparison to the darkness that had enveloped them, it felt incredibly bright. The second thing he noticed was that it was silent outside. The wind had stopped howling, which presumably meant the snow had likely stopped. And the third thing he noticed (though he'd been aware of it all along) was that Liz was asleep against him, their arms still around each other.

Not wanting to move and wake her, he simply laid his head back against the seat again, and looked at the snow covered window. His breath was coming out in vapor in front of his face, clear now in the dim light of day. It was extremely cold. So cold that his body was once again no longer shivering, but locked tight as muscles quivered against the invasion of arctic air inside the cabin.

_Distraction technique…_  inevitably, his mind wandered back to their conversation. Brief though it was, it spoke volumes. And he wanted to tell her that she'd done it again. That she HAD distracted him from the very thing that had been tearing him apart before she woke. With her beside him, the pills weren't at the forefront of his brain. And for that he was grateful. But to tell her that would mean admitting to her he'd…slipped. He hadn't outright failed… _not yet_ …but slipped. And right now, they had far bigger things on their plate – such as seeing what lay outside those snow covered windows.

She was stirring now, trying in vain to pull the blanket tighter around her. "Morning," he whispered, as she stretched out and sat up beside him, still under their blankets.

"It's SO cold!" she exclaimed, and was answered not by Ressler, but by Red who had heard her wake up.

"Yes it is. Good morning, Agent Keen," he said, dropping into the seat across from them, then leaning forward to look at her. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm cold!" she told him, and he chuckled.

"Well, I wish I could offer you a hot beverage, but that's rather out of the question in our current predicament," he smiled at her, then turned his attention to Ressler.

"Okay, Donald, time to find out where we are and what lies outside these snow covered windows. Dembe is already working on finding warmer clothes for outside. That is, assuming you can work with your left shoulder as it is?"

"I'll be fine," he replied, and glanced at Liz as she groaned, "Of course you will."

Leaving the blankets unwillingly, he pulled himself up from the seat and went to the tiny bathroom in the rear of the plane. The water was frozen, but at least it offered some privacy. And as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, the dark cubicle illuminated by the light from his phone he looked at the one day growth and tired eyes. And almost with a will of its own, his right hand slipped into his pocket and retrieved the sheet of pills. Leaning against the mirror, he closed his eyes.  _God no… Don't._ And with an effort, he pulled himself upright and stared into his eyes.

_You will not think about pain pills ANYMORE today… You will not endlessly look at the First Aid Kit, wanting what's inside it. You will not reach into your right pocket searching for pills during stressful times. Okay, more stressful times. You will not think about drugs today. YOU WILL NOT TAKE ANY._

_I am Special Agent Donald…_ And he couldn't finish his morning ritual. Not with pills in his hand. Gathering himself up, grimacing and clenching his teeth, he shoved the pills back in his pocket, and looked deeply into his eyes.

_I am Special Agent Donald Ressler, and I am not a junkie._

Resolutely steeling himself for the day, putting his game face on, he then left the bathroom and went in search of work clothes for outside.

###

Ressler had to hand it to the Transportation boys. They were incredibly well prepared. His feet were now much warmer in SWAT type boots, rather than dress shoes. And with three layers of clothing and some work gloves he felt much better about venturing outside.

Assuming they could get out.

As he approached the front of the plane, Dembe was working on the door. He'd got the latch turned, but try as he might, the door would not open. Campbell was offering helpful suggestions - in the spirit of cooperation, of course. Having received some of the infamous pain pills, he was feeling quite a bit better despite his left tibia being broken. And while sitting with his leg propped up on a box Dembe had found, he was in full on Supervisor mode. "Have two of you push against it." Dembe and Young tried that time and time again, but to no avail.

"It must be frozen shut," Campbell offered 'helpfully' again for about the sixth time, as Young spun around to him.

"Yeah, we get that. Will you stop stating the damn obvious!" he flung at his partner in crime.

Ressler actually recognized a kindred spirit in Young, which was almost startling. The man also had an underlying anger in him that was quick to surface. He had to admit, reluctantly, that it was not one of his most redeeming qualities.

As Red came up the aisle and leaned on an armrest behind Ressler, he offered a suggestion of his own. "There are two possibilities. It's frozen, as our very cooperative Mr Campbell has suggested, or the sheer weight of the snow drift against it is too great."

"Or three, we're jammed up against a tree," added Ressler, looking sideways at Red.

Red nodded, pointing to no one in particular, "There you have it. Three possibilities."

"Yeah, three ways we're screwed," said Young, who flung himself down onto a seat at the front.

They turned to see Liz, blanket wrapped around her, making her way slowly toward the group. "Agent Keen, you should be sitting down," Red told her worriedly, and offered her the seat he'd been leaning on.

"I will, I just wanted to be closer to…to see what was going on," she said, and gingerly sat down in the seat. Ressler looked at her and briefly caught her eyes with the barest hint of a smile, then turned his attention back to the unwieldy door. He wasn't alone in needing to get out of this hollow tube. The thought of spending much more time in the plane was enough to send them all stir crazy.

"Is there anything we can wedge under the lip of the door and use as a pseudo crowbar?" suggested Campbell.

"The metal struts around the shattered windscreen might work..." answered Ressler, though he wasn't exactly looking forward to being in the presence of the skewered dead pilot.

"It might." Nodding to Dembe, Red sent him in search of metal struts in the cockpit. And as Dembe closed the door quickly behind him, the frigid air poured into the cabin, giving them a small taste of what was waiting for them outside.

As Ressler looked through the gap in the door right before Dembe closed it, he looked at Red. "Damn." Red turned to look at him. "The door isn't our only way out." And as he said it, he donned his work gloves ready to enter the cockpit.

Young was out of his seat and had already opened the cockpit door to look in at the shattered front of the jet.

"Damn is right. But that could definitely work," he said to Ressler as Dembe turned to face him. "Change of plan," Young told him, shivering against the blast of cold air inside the cockpit.

Pulling his blanket around him, grunting at the pain in his leg, Campbell came up with yet another cooperative suggestion. And this one was actually pretty good, thought Ressler. "If we have a blanket to spare, I can cut strips we can use as makeshift head coverings. We're gonna need them out there."

"I'll help you," said Liz, wanting to be of some use. "But do we have scissors…?"

"First Aid Kit," said Ressler and could have absolutely kicked himself. How would he know that unless he'd looked in it? "I assume," he added, trying not to sound guilty.  _Damn…_ His mind was immediately on the pills in his pocket again. Angrily, he pushed that thought aside.

Red looked at Ressler for a second, narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, then got up to retrieve the kit and find a spare blanket for the industrious Liz and Campbell.

###

Inside the frigid cockpit, Ressler tried not to look at the pilot as they concentrated their escape efforts on the co-pilots side. The plan was simple enough in theory. Pull the snow out the way and exit through the shattered windshield. The problem was, as they pulled more and more snow into the cockpit, there was no sign at all of breaking through the drift.

Using some plastic plates brought up from the rear of the plane, Ressler, Dembe and Young scooped the snow out of the window, pulling it back into the cockpit. Ressler was having difficulty with only one arm, but he was damn sure he wasn't going to sit back while the others worked. Within minutes of being in the frigid air though, it was clear they needed more protection. Their faces were almost numb with cold.

Regrouping, they closed the cockpit door behind them and sat down in the cabin for a moment. Sitting across from Liz and Campbell, Ressler watched them cutting wide strips of blanket, and Liz finally held up a couple of strips of blanket and motioned to him.

"Here, hold this one to your nose and mouth and tie it behind you, and then slip this one the other way and tie it under your chin."

Taking them from her, he tried his best, but it was impossible one handed. And Liz wasn't much better off, with her sprained wrist. Red finally tied Resslers, as Young smirked at him. His face hidden under the blanket, all that showed were his blue eyes as he glared at Young. He didn't particularly like or trust the man. But right now, they all needed to cooperate, just as Red had said.

"Very fashionable, Donald." Ressler briefly looked at Red then to Liz, and after Young and Dembe donned their equally fashionable blanket strips, they headed back to their work in the cockpit, hearing Campbell again as Dembe closed the door.

"Is there any food around here?"

###

Work proceeded in the cockpit, and with nowhere else to pile up the snow they were scooping inside, they had no choice but to start to cover up the pilot. To bury him where he'd died. But right before the man's head was covered, Dembe held up his hand to halt them. Placing his hand on the pilot's hair, he bowed his head and stood silently. As Ressler dropped his head in respect, he noticed that even Young did the same thing.

As he pulled his hand off the pilot's head, Dembe nodded to them, speaking in his soft voice. "Now you may cover him."

After another fifteen minutes of pulling snow inside, their hands numb with cold even under their gloves, Ressler stopped.

"This isn't working," he said breathlessly, crystals of ice on his blanket as he breathed through it.

"Well, what do you suggest G Man? Waiting in here till the Spring thaw?" asked Young, and grimacing under his face cover, Ressler ignored the man. He looked at Dembe.

"We need something to push through and get an idea of how deep this snow is." He looked at the snow piled on the pilot's side of the cockpit. The area available to work was almost at the point only two of them could fit comfortably. "Let's take a break and look in the cabin," he added, and the three of them dusted off the snow as best they could and retreated back inside.

As it turned out, they found what they needed immediately. Thin metal strips ran along the floor either side of the aisle, holding the tiny aisle lights. Dembe and Young immediately set to pulling up a strip, and once they got the first part up, they pulled up a piece about 8 feet long.

"Well, let's certainly hope that will reach the surface long before you put the entire length of that through the snow," said Red as they maneuvered the metal strip through the cockpit door.

Once in place, Dembe pushed the metal strip forward through the snow, moving it slightly to widen the narrow space. Feeling resistance the entire way, he slowly pulled it back in.

"Damn it all to hell! We're buried alive in here!" grimaced Young, and once again Ressler bit his tongue. The man was echoing his thoughts.

"Push it upwards," Ressler told Dembe, and he changed direction, which was more difficult given the length of the metal. As he pushed up, his arm suddenly moved forward. He had pushed through.

"Bring it back, let's see how far we need to dig." As Dembe marked the tube with his hand, they measured approximately 2 feet above them.

"Now try it toward the pilot's side…" Ressler told him.

And as Dembe repeated the test, he broke through about 4 feet on the pilot's side.

"So, we dig upward," said Young, moving back into the hole they'd dug and scooping rapidly out from above him. His determination paid off. Ressler and Dembe busied themselves with moving the snow out the way as Young pulled it into the cockpit.

"Daylight! I see the sky!"

_Oh, thank God…_

Dembe turned to Ressler and though his face was hidden, it was obvious the man was grinning broadly. From behind the cockpit door, the sound of cheering and applause was heard which made Ressler smile under his blanket cover. But as he heard Campbell, he realized it was going to be very difficult to get the man out of the plane.

A large drift of snow fell in on top of Young, and as he dropped down into the tight cockpit, they could see daylight streaming through the hole he'd dug. Dembe took over, and after a few minutes, he hauled his legs up into the hole and then disappeared.

He was out of the plane.

"Yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" In his exuberance, Young slapped Ressler on the back, jarring his shoulder. But while grimacing at the pain shooting through his left shoulder and down his side, he actually had to agree with Young once again.

###

As Ressler crawled up through the snow tunnel and popped his head out, a grey and overcast sky greeted him. Not a breath of air moved by him in the still and frosty landscape. Trees surrounded them. Large trees as far as he could see. Their descent through the tree above him was clearly visible, as jagged broken limbs hung to the ground, despite the trees being heavily laden with snowfall. They had crashed landed in fairly flat country, with only a gentle slope of untouched snow running away from him.

Struggling to haul himself out of the plane with only one arm, he gave one final lunge and slipped down the snow bank covering the starboard side of the plane, landing on the snow covered ground with a soft crunch. Crying out in pain as he landed, he clutched his left arm to his side.

It felt good to be out in the open, despite the freezing cold air. Unbelievably good. After a moment he climbed to his feet, sinking knee deep in the white blanket. As his feet sunk into the snow with each step, the familiar crunching sound was the only sound in the white landscape. Slowly he made his way to the back of the plane, following Young and Dembe's foot falls that had disturbed the pristine white.

They all wanted to know why the door had not been able to open. And as he rounded the plane, the answer became very clear. Young had been scooping snow away from the door and had uncovered a tree limb - that appeared to be part of the same snapped tree limb that had impaled the pilot. It was split into two branches, with the second one running along the side of the plane, effectively blocking the door.

"Can we break it?" asked Ressler breathlessly as he came up to the two men, still scooping the snow out the way.

"We do not know yet, Agent Ressler," replied Dembe. "We may be able to move it, though I do not wish to disturb the dead."

Ressler truly believed the dead would understand under the circumstances.

They spent the next thirty minutes or so clearing the snow from the door and following the tree branch to its point of origin. While they worked on that, Ressler moved down the side of the plane, his legs wet with snow, as he swept the white powder away from a couple of the windows. Moving to the other side, making the effort to step into his own footprints, he continued clearing some of the windows, giving them much more light inside the plane. Alone on that side of the plane again, he took a better look at the trees around them.

Walking a few feet into the trees, he stood near them now, noting the long branches draping along the ground under the weight of the snow, forming a semi sheltered area. He'd grown up around trees like these, and they made excellent shelter for camping, once some snow had been dug out from them. And if they could get a fire going, under the trees might actually be warmer than inside the plane, he reasoned. And safer. Out here they wouldn't have an unexploded bomb under their feet.

"Agent Ressler!"

Ressler turned at Dembe's voice, and giving an answering shout, he made his way back to the other side of the plane, his eyes scanning the area as he went. There was no sign of life anywhere. Just trees, and more trees in the distance. Once again rounding the tail, traversing along the narrow path being worn in the snow now, he approached the two men. As he walked toward them, one slow footstep at a time, the clouds broke and sunlight burst through turning the untouched snow beside him into a glittering blanket. And even with their circumstances right now, the sight of that took his breath away. He didn't have long to enjoy the spectacle though, as Young called out to him.

"Need your help G Man! I know you only got one wing, but that could make all the difference!"

The had completely cleared the door and the entire length of the branch, exposing this side of the plane from the door forward.

Dembe regarded him politely, in that calm, uncomplicated manner of his. "Agent Ressler, if you could push here, holding the limb in place, we will both push down on it here." He indicated a section of the limb that had a gnarled knot in it, causing a weakening in it.

Knowing he was basically just the dead weight, Ressler pushed with all his might. Pain radiated across his shoulders to his left side, even though he was leaning with his right.

"Keep going! Keep going!" Young yelled out as the three men pushed and grunted, forcing the tree limb under them to break.

And right as Ressler didn't think he could push a moment longer, a deep cracking sound filled the silent forest around them as the limb gave way under their combined onslaught. Staggering back, he dropped down into the snow, letting it cushion his fall. The door was free of the tree, but still coated in ice - a situation that Dembe now rectified as he picked up the severed limb. Using it as a hammer, the ice shattered in large sheets, falling almost silently into the snow.

And as Ressler sat in the snow, his shoulder and left side on fire despite the bitter cold around them, Dembe finally opened the door to the plane. Red popped his head out, smiling in the bright daylight, and behind him Liz stood with her blanket wrapped around her. Looking out at the white snowy landscape, she turned and met his eyes and Ressler could see the fear in her face. He didn't blame her one bit. They were literally in the middle of nowhere.

What he'd ascertained in walking around the plane was that their white plane in the snow and under the tree canopy was completely invisible. No one would see them even if they flew overhead. No one was going to find them.

If they were going to escape this, they were going to have to walk out of here.

As he went to haul himself up out of the snow, he rolled to his right side, burying himself in the snow a little as he struggled to his feet. Pushing on the tree had hurt his shoulder more than he'd realized, as pain radiated from his left side. He looked down into the snow where he had been sitting, and was surprised to see a red stain.

He looked up at Liz, and something in the look in his eyes made her leave the relative safety of the plane and walk the 10 feet or so over to him with difficulty.

"What's wrong? she asked, knowing him well enough now to know that something was amiss.

"I don't know. Nothing, I'm sure," he said, looking at the blood in the snow. He turned to look at her. "And it's too cold out here, you should be inside-"

She gave him the look, and he shut up. Lifting his jacket in line with where the blood was on his outline in the snow, she reached her hand in to his left side, and as it came out it was covered in blood.

"What have you done?"

"I have no idea, Liz."

"Let's get you inside and check you out," she told him, heading back toward the plane as he walked by her side. He reached out his right hand to steady her as she sunk down into the snow at each step.

"I'm fine, really. I'll live," he told her.

Red had been watching them and as they stepped through the door of the plane, he greeted them, "Donald, what have you done to yourself this time?" he said pleasantly, reaching for the First Aid Kit.

"Just keeping you gainfully employed, Doc," he quipped, looking at Red, while trying not to look at the First Aid Kit.

"Let me take a look. Remove your jacket and shirt," said Red, suddenly all business.

"You want me to freeze to death?!" he said, removing his blanket coverings from his face and head with his right hand. Refusing to get completely undressed in the cold, he reached down with his right hand and loosened the Velcro straps from his vest, then held his shirt and jacket up as best he could with one hand.

"Oh my…" said Red, tilting his head as he looked at Ressler's side.

"What? What is it?" asked Liz, looking at what Red was seeing.

"Donald, it appears you didn't survive the crash landing completely unscathed," said Red, looking up at him. "Lizzie, hand me some tweezers from the First Aid Kit." He asked her, as she rummaged through the kit to comply.

And as she did so, she uncovered the 3 sheets of OxyContin, with 4 pills missing that had been given to Campbell. Momentarily forgetting what Red wanted, she looked at the pills and up at Ressler, who met her eyes with that frightened rabbit look he'd met her with as he sat in the ambulance in Sitka. And in that moment, she knew.

He held her eyes a moment more, then dropped them, looking down at what Red was doing. Finding his voice, he spoke to the criminal. "What is it?"

As Liz handed Red the tweezers, he reached down and Ressler felt something gouging into his side. "Damn!"

"Got it. There you go, Donald. You've been carrying around this metal strip in your side, courtesy of the shattered wind shield." And holding up the tweezers, he held up an almost 3 inch long piece of narrow metal.

"I didn't even feel that…" he told Red, still unable to look at Liz.

"Most likely a combination of the severe cold and the pain from your shoulder," said Red, dropping the piece of metal into Ressler's hand.

And as Red busied himself with dressing the bleeding wound, Ressler finally stole a glance at Liz. And in that moment, he couldn't read if she was angry, upset, disappointed, or concerned.

Or all of the above.

And the look in her eyes hurt more than the wound Red was dressing.

_My name is Donald Ressler…and I am a junkie…_

* * *

_Author's Note – for those who have not read Hard Rain, Liz's distraction technique was her suddenly kissing Ressler, and surprising him so much it enabled Red and Dembe to quickly reset his dislocated shoulder._


	6. Confrontation

By the time Red had finished dressing his wound, Liz was busying herself with Campbell again, keeping herself occupied (and away from Ressler) with sorting out the blanket strips they'd cut.

"Want me to look at your shoulder?" Red asked, and Ressler answered without looking at the man, still looking toward Liz.

"No."

"Fair enough," said Red, knowing exactly where the agent's attention was right now, and left his side.

Ressler had two choices. Ignore what had just happened and carry on as normal. But even though that was usually the choice he took, he was never good at that - because his brain never stopped stewing when he took that path.

Or two, go down and talk with Liz and try and explain. But really, there was nothing to explain. He was a junkie and she knew he'd taken pills from the First Aid Kit. End of story. Besides, that wasn't really him. Sure, he talked to her when they were alone. But they weren't exactly on their own in the plane.

Or, none of the above. Refastening his bullet proof vest and zipping up his coat, he exited the plane quickly, stepping out into the frigid air to cool down and catch his thoughts.

Following the now well worn path around the tail of the plane, his breath huffing out in steam in front of him, he realized belatedly that he didn't have his face covering on. That was certainly going to cool him down fast in this, he reasoned, though not in the manner he probably needed.

He was drawn back to the trees. Mostly pine, with a few large beech. Standing among them, with the plane off to his right, it was almost a beautiful setting. Almost. Being stranded with no idea where they were, no food, and no idea which way to head to get to safety was definitely putting a damper on that view.

He heard someone coming as the creaking, crunching sound in the snow and the harsh breathing of the walker reached him. He turned to see Liz, bundled up in a thicker FBI coat now and her face coverings. If it weren't for her eyes, he'd have had a hard time recognizing who it was under all that. He turned his attention back to the trees before she reached him, his gloved hands shoved in his pockets against the cold.

"Hey," she said as she came up to him, shivering, sniffing in the cold air under her face covering.

"Hey," he replied, not meeting her eyes now that she was right beside him. He focused on the trees around him, stoically rising up into the sky, despite the heavy snow dragging their limbs toward the ground.

"It's too cold out here, you should head back," he told her, his voice almost swallowed up in the blanket of snow around them.

"Too cold for you too," she replied. Reaching into her pocket she held out his face coverings to him, which he took from her gratefully. Still being tied, it was a simpler affair getting them on his face one handed this time.

"Thanks," he nodded to her, his face tingling under the blankets as the blood started flowing again.

"Ress… Have you used?"

"No." Apparently being cold was bringing Liz right to the point.

"You promised that you wouldn't-" she replied, as he cut her off.

"And I have kept that promise."

"I'm sorry, It's just…"

"I haven't used Liz," he told her evenly. "Has it been easy? Hell no." He shot at her, gritting his teeth under his face covering.

"I know…I know you're trying-" And once again he cut her off, his voice raised now.

"You don't know Liz. You have no idea how it feels to be doing your job, and have your brain screaming at you to 'just take a pill and you'll feel better'," he flung at her, knowing he was being overly harsh, yet needing to get it out of him.

"I know, I-"

He whirled on her, leaning into her face. "You have no idea! Having your day revolve around damn drugs! Knowing that if you take one, it won't be just one. It will be one more, then two more, then daily, and then-" He stopped at the look in her eyes. Eyes that held him, trying to understand him as they blinked quickly. He leaned back from her, exhaling deeply against his tirade, in an effort to stop the verbal onslaught that was threatening to let loose on her again. Because she didn't deserve that. Because he was angry at himself, not her.

Catching his breath, he continued, measuring his words as she stood silently in front of him. "Sometimes it gets harder to ignore that."

"I know you said you can handle this on your own, but Ress…maybe it's time to get some help," she said quietly, her face tilting a little as she faced him.

He chuckled humorlessly, dropping his head, shaking it before he turned to meet her eyes. "Look around you Liz. We're on our own. I'm on my own in this."

"You are NOT on your own!" she retorted, her voice sharp in the cold air.

Her change in tone opened up the gates of his frustration again. "You wanna help me, Liz?! Then here!" he shouted at her, fishing the pills out of his right pocket. Lifting her gloved hand, he slammed the pills onto her open palm. "Keep the damn things away from me!"

"And what happens when you feel the need for one again? Are you going to demand them back again? What are you going to do then?" she replied, raising her voice at him, "Or will you just take more from the First Aid Kit?" her voice hung in the crisp air, demanding an answer to which he had none.

He looked at her a moment longer, not knowing what he would do if the need arose, feeling the anger in him. And he wouldn't aim it her way again. He wasn't going to misdirect it at her when he was the one with the problem here. Grimacing at her, he let out a frustrated cry through gritted teeth, then turned and walked further into the trees, dragging his feet through the deep snow as he crunched away from her.

"Ress!" she called after him before shoving the pills in her own pocket and following him through the cold, white blanket, stepping in his foot prints to ease her way to him.

He hadn't gone far, but in this landscape, even going 20 feet into the fresh snow wasn't easy. But the struggle to get through the snow was beneficial, his anger dissipating with every step he took as he stalked away from her. As he stopped near an outcropping of large pine trees, her crunching foot falls broke the silence behind him as she approached. He kept his back to her, gathering his thoughts as she spoke.

"Tell me what would make it…easier, and I use the term loosely. What would make this better for you? Tell me." Her hand rose tentatively to touch his right arm, ready to pull it back if he shook her away.

He didn't shake it away.

He was about to tell her that he didn't know. But he'd be lying, because he did know. He knew what had made it better the night before, but now in the light of day he couldn't voice that. She was his work partner. Yes, she was his best friend…but he shouldn't feel the way he did about her. He couldn't tell her that SHE had made it better. Not in so many words.

"I just…" he turned to look at her as she stood at his side, "I just need to know you have my back."

"Always," she replied softly, looping her left arm in his right arm, as the tension eased in him now.

"Thanks…" he felt her leaning into him now and he responded, loosening up and allowing her to do that. "And I'm sorry I'm such a prick at times."

"Apology accepted. So how about we get out of this cold. Although…the plane isn't that much 'warmer' is it?"

Eager to change the subject, he latched onto that. "About that…look at this…" He stepped away from her, but as his arm unlooped from hers, he clutched her hand, guiding her to the nearest large tree. Dropping her hand, he bent down and reached for one of the drooping, snow laden branches that was touching the ground and buried in the snow. And while it was pushed aside, he leaned in further, moving another branch out the way, and she bent down to see what he was doing.

"What…?"

Peering under the tree, she gasped under her blanket over her mouth. "Wow. It's like a little cave!" Under the tree, there was very little snowfall. The drooping branches had protected the ground, having drooped down to form a tent like structure about 5 feet in height at the trunk. Pine needles blanketed the ground, and around the tree trunk in the centre, it was fairly dry, despite the tree being buried in snow.

He looked back up at her still holding the drooping branches aside with his right arm. "Yeah, a snow cave. I've camped in these a few times. Under these trees, with a fire burning we would be much warmer than in the plane."

Her eyes alight, she looked at him. "I had no idea there was any shelter to be found out here! You're such a country boy! You really are a Boy Scout!" she laughed.

He dropped the branches now, letting them cover the entrance once more. "Yeah, I spent my youth in country like this," he smiled, his eyes taking on a distant look as he thought back to his teens before he looked at her and moved to stand beside her again. Squinting through the snow toward the plane, he looped his right arm back into her left. "We should head back before Red sends out a search party." Together, they started trudging through the heavy snow toward the plane.

"Do you think they are searching for us? I mean Cooper, and Aram?" she asked him, panting as she walked beside him. He was walking in the fresh snow, letting her step into their foot steps from their walk up here.

"Oh, I know they will be. But they'll be looking in the wrong place."

"So we really are on our own here, and it's up to us to get ourselves out."

"There's another, more pressing reason to be out of the plane," he told her, keeping her on her feet as she almost fell in the deep snow again. "There really was a bomb on the plane, and it's still on board."

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, looking from him to the plane with apprehension, "I really had thought it was all a hoax after all!"

"Yeah, I did too, believe me. The only reason it hasn't gone off is because it's a liquid explosive and it's frozen." As her eyes widened, he looked around at the snow. "This snow won't last forever. But at some point, as the temperature rises, that bomb is going to thaw out."

"How long do you think we have?" she asked, unable to draw her eyes off the plane as they approached the tail.

"I don't know for sure. All I know is that even though the temperature right now has to be well below freezing, I'm not sure how much longer we can continue to sleep on top of a bomb and expect to get away with it. We need to evacuate the plane tonight. Make camp out here nearby it until morning, but we need to get out of it."

"And you did say under the trees would be warmer."

"Exactly. We need to get everything we can carry out of that plane before tonight, and then come first light, decide how the hell we're going to get out of here."

###

Red was having a discussion with Campbell when Ressler and Liz stepped back into the cabin, closing the door behind them.

"But it does need to be set. It will knit like this, and you'll be crippled for the rest of your life," said Red, motioning to Campbell's left leg.

He was clearly trying to convince Campbell to let them set his broken leg. As Ressler and Liz stood at the front of the plane, removing their head coverings and gloves, Campbell replied.

"I don't think I can handle the pain of you doing that, man. I know you got good intentions, but I can't do that," he said, looking at Red warily, almost afraid the man would just hold him down and forcefully manipulate his leg into place.

Liz looked at Ressler as he turned to her, whispering. "Perfect. Because it needs to be set if we're to get out of here tonight." And then he half smiled, looking at Campbell arguing with Red. "And Campbell doesn't know the man he's dealing with. Doctor Red won't shut up about it until he sets that leg."

Liz smiled, agreeing with her partner. "I don't envy him though. That is going to hurt like hell."

"Yeah. So just as well we have strong pain meds to knock him out with, right?" he whispered as he looked at her evenly, almost surprising himself that he'd mentioned the pills so…casually… so soon.

Red's voice reached them. "Are you two going to stand there sharing secrets all day, or are you going to come help. Mr Campbell here has agreed to let us set his leg."

As Ressler gave Liz his 'told ya' smile, raising his eyebrows a little, Liz snickered behind his back and followed him down the aisle toward Campbell.

"Where are Dembe and Young?" asked Liz, looking around the empty plane.

"Oh, they decided to take a little reconnoiter outside and see if they could spot anything that might be of use to us in making our daring escape from our little situation here," Red told them conversationally while going through the First Aid Kit.

Leaning on the arm rest across from Campbell and Red, Ressler asked how they were going to help set Campbell's leg when he and Liz each only had one good arm.

"I just need you to help hold him down for me," said Red simply, eliciting a worried look from Liz.

"Oh, geez, I think I changed my mind," panted Campbell, his heart rate rising at the mere thought of what was coming.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm about to give you something for the pain first," said Red, patting Campbell on the shoulder.

Ressler suddenly felt as if all eyes were on him as Red took 4 of the pain pills from the kit. It was done so quickly, so innocently. 4 white pain pills pushed out of their foil pack and dropped into Campbell's waiting hand. And yet Ressler sucked in air and had to look away. Beside him, Liz placed her hand on his right shoulder and gripped him firmly, centering him.

"Swallow these. They won't take long to take affect, and very soon you will feel extremely sleepy," Red told Campbell, who tossed them back in his mouth, swallowing them down and grimacing at the bitter taste.

Ressler waited for the "Isn't that right, Donald?" with him being the 'resident expert' on the pills, but of course it never came. Red looked up at him, and as his eyes softened at the sight of Lizzie's hand on Ressler's shoulder, he smiled ruefully at the agent. Yes, he knew that was difficult.

Ten minutes later, Campbell was looking decidedly drowsy. "Excellent, we should be able to start soon," said Red, getting what he needed prepared. His splints were constructed from the long strip of metal from the floor aisle lights, having snapped the 8 foot length down to manageable 2 feet lengths. Strong bandages were ready to hold the splints in place.

After another few minutes, Campbell closed his eyes, and his snores filled the cabin. "Perfect," said Red.

Swiveling Campbell's seat around so they had room to work on his leg, Liz positioned herself near his upper body, while Red and Ressler looked at the broken limb propped up on the box. Ressler was very relieved to see that the bone had not penetrated the skin.

"He will wake up when I start, so be prepared." He handed Liz a folded up piece of blanket, "Give him this to bite down on." Red looked at both of them. "Ready?" After briefly glancing at each other dubiously in support, they both nodded to Red.

Red was absolutely right. As soon as he pressed his hands to Campbell's leg, the man awoke with a strangled cry.

"Hold him down!" panted Red, manhandling the broken lower leg.

Ressler leaned heavily on the man, pushing down with his right hand on Campbell's upper left thigh, keeping the leg as still as he could for Red. Despite the pain pills, Campbell bucked and screamed under them, narrowly missing Ressler's head as he punched the air.

Liz was near his face, encouraging him and reassuring him as best she could as he yelled out.

"Bite down on this!' she yelled in his ear to get his attention as she gave him the folded blanket to bite on. Complying with her, his teeth rammed down on the blanket, muffling his screams. Holding the man's arm now, she kept talking to him gently.

As Red continued to manipulate the broken bones, Ressler pressed down on the thigh of his broken leg trying to prevent Campbell kicking and moving it in pain. With Campbell struggling and screaming under them, Red worked quickly.

Even as he held the struggling Campbell down, Ressler watched the criminal in silent awe. Doctor Red was back, concentrating on what he was doing, feeling the bones under the skin. This strange enigma of a man - a world class criminal who could kill without thought - yet just as easily patch up the wounds of his enemies. Expertly, he manipulated the two edges of the bones back into place with his hands, feeling them aligning.

"There we go. Back in place," breathed Red heavily, reaching for the splints as Campbell's screams gave way to sobs, his chest heaving under them. "Hold this, will you Donald…" and Ressler assisted Red, holding each splint in place while Red wrapped the heavy tape around them, securing them in place.

"All done Mr Campbell. You did excellently. As did the two of you," he nodded, looking to Ressler and Liz, "Thank you for your assistance."

His breathing slowly coming back under control, Campbell once again started looking sleepy. Ressler watched as Red busied himself with covering Campbell with a blanket, and making sure he was as comfortable as could be.

"How do you know how to do all that…?" he asked the criminal quietly.

"Life, Donald. Life teaches us many, many things my friend," he said cryptically, not answering Ressler's question at all.

###

Dembe and Young returned about 30 minutes later, their faces flushed with the cold, even with their protective coverings. As they sat in the cabin, they reported on their findings.

"There is a road," said Dembe, his soft voice cut off by Young.

"Yeah, we walked a good 30 minutes straight out from the door of the plane, which I guess was almost due North if the nose is sitting at 74 degrees. The trees thin out a little the farther we got. We couldn't see much. Just trees and more snow as far as the eye can see. But there were a few areas of more open snow."

"And then we saw what looked like a row of little thin trees on the horizon," added Dembe, wanting to share the news.

"Right, except as we got closer, we could see they weren't trees. They were power lines, right along the horizon in the distance. And not those big-assed square ones that go across country. These are the small T shaped ones with wires visible, so there has to be a road there," continued Young, "And that is our best shot to aim for tomorrow."

"Agreed," said Red, nodding.

"No. I disagree," said Ressler, glancing at Liz for support as she sat beside him.

"On which part?" asked Young, daring the agent to find fault with what they'd found.

"We need to get out of this plane tonight. Not tomorrow. Now," he told them, and the looks he was receiving from them as the sun reached lower in the sky were full of 'but we're fine here, thanks'.

Red turned to him, eyeing him curiously, "Why this change of plans?"

"Have you all forgotten we're sitting on a bomb? We don't know when it will thaw out, or when just enough of the gel thaws out to let it detonate. I am not going to sleep another night on top of that thing," he told them, as Liz nodded beside him, taking up the cause.

"Those trees outside have little 'caves' around their trunks, hidden underneath the overhanging branches. Big enough for us to camp under. We can light a fire under them and be warmer! Seriously!" she emphasized, seeing their guarded looks.

"I have heard of such things, Agent Ressler. Your plan is sound," said Dembe, and Liz could have hugged him. Trustful, honest Dembe.

"Show me these trees, Donald," said Red, and while Ressler rolled his eyes at the time wasting, Dembe stepped up again.

"Raymond, I have trust in Agent Ressler. If he says we need to get out, and these trees can offer shelter, then let us begin." He stood in front of his boss, calmly looking at Red.

Whether it was because of Ressler's insistence, or Dembe's, they weren't sure. But Red did agree.

"Then we need to get as much out of this plane tonight. Drag it out there on the snow, a sufficient distance from the plane, in case Agent Ressler's vision of us all going up in smoke overnight is a correct one."

###

And so they set to work, the five able bodied members of their team hauling everything that wasn't attached to the plane out into the snow about 40 yards out from the main cabin door. Their well worn path through the snow helped each subsequent load, and after 45 minutes, they stood back looking at their haul of clothing, blankets, pillows, the First Aid Kit, plates that they'd used as snow scoops, plastic cups, and everything they could find from the galley – with the exception of food. There was no food on board.

"How the hell are we going to carry all that?" asked Young, standing back with hands on hips, surveying the pile.

Liz turned to Ressler. "Remind you of anyone?" she chuckled, looking at Young's stance and attitude.

"Oh, shut up," he replied, but then gave her his half smile. Of course he'd seen it in Young.

"Okay, there is one thing we haven't brought out of the plane – Campbell. I suggest you put your little Boy Scout hat on and get us a fire going under one of your little tree houses," said Red, urging Ressler to move, now that he saw the validity behind this plan.

"I'll help you," said Liz, as Ressler grabbed the box of matches and headed for the nearest large pine.

"Really? How many camp fires have you lit?" he asked her, holding the branches aside for her as she stooped down to enter the tree house, as Red had aptly called it.

"Counting this one? One," she grinned, sitting against the tree trunk, feeling the blanket of pine needles under her. "Hey, I'm eager to learn."

"Nothing to it, Liz. Just find stuff that burns, small stuff underneath, big stuff on top. Set it alight," he summarized, picking up kindling from the ground, around the tree.

"But we keep it small. We don't want a raging inferno. Just a very small camp fire," he added, then pointed to an area a couple of feet out from the tree trunk. "Clear the pine needles so you get to bare dirt in a circle there."

He had the fire built in no time, on the bare patch of dirt. As he and Liz kneeled down beside the pile of kindling, he struck a match, holding it to the pine needles at the bottom of the stack. They held their breaths, then slowly the flame curled and grew, catching the pine needles alight. They could already feel the warmth, and leaned toward it.

"Oh my gosh, that feels so good already!" Liz grinned, watching as the flame grew, casting little shadows around the tree, immediately making it feel enclosed and almost cozy.

"Wow… I'm impressed!" she laughed, shaking her head at him.

"Yeah?" he grinned, "Then go impress me and bring in some blankets and pillows in here and set up camp. I'll go show the others and get their fires going."

As he moved out from under the tree, back into the stark white landscape, he noticed the others had already been looking under the trees and had picked two more large pines. Going under each one into the little enclosed space, Ressler showed Young how small to keep the fire, and just as Liz had done at the feel of that first warm ember, he leaned forward into the warmth.

Young looked at Ressler in begrudging gratitude. "That's awesome, Fed. You know…I gotta hand it to you. This… was a good idea."

Ressler nodded and went to get the other fire ready under the third tree, as Red, Dembe and Young went back to the plane to retrieve their sleeping comrade. As they hauled Campbell out of the plane, carrying him carefully between them, Red walked alongside, making sure they didn't drop the poor guy on his newly splinted leg. They carefully maneuvered him under one of the trees, the space significantly warmer even with such a tiny fire burning. Placing him on the ground, Red placed a pillow under the man's head, and a blanket over him.

"We can stay in here with him, if you'd rather have your own condo next door," smiled Red, and Young took him up on that, and stepped out.

For the next few minutes, they divided up the pile of clothing and blankets between the three camps, then threw all the smaller items inside one blanket and tied it up. Dembe took it and the First Aid Kit to Red, disappearing under the snowy tree, finding Red sitting at the fire warming his hands.

Under their tree, Ressler and Liz sat at their fire also enjoying the warmth. With blankets around them as the campfire burned between them, Liz sighed.

"What?" he asked, drawing his gaze from the dancing flames to see her smiling.

"You would have been a fun guy to know in your youth. Camping out like this…" she smiled, the light from the fire casting shadows across her.

"Well, it wasn't all fun and games…" he said, but didn't elaborate. He couldn't draw his eyes away from the flames as he spoke, oblivious to the fact she was still watching him. His comment reminded her of their argument earlier in the day.

"I'm sorry about today. I don't know what it's like and shouldn't presume to know and give advice," she told him quietly.

"It's fine. It wasn't really you I was angry with," he replied softly, still looking at the flames.

"Yes, I was spot on with my assessment of 'fueled by an inner rage' wasn't I?" she chuckled and he nodded, smiling at that memory. She'd known him better than he knew himself, it seemed, even back then.

"You nailed it, Liz. Well, apart from the Asian porn part," he smiled, looking over the fire at her.

Chuckling, she looked up at him, "But I was right about the occasional moments of tenderness."

He nodded and smiled, reaching for another small piece of wood to put on the fire. "What can I say. You apparently bring out the best and worst in me."

"Right," she smiled, "Now let's try and get some sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow."

Making sure they had enough wood for the night, they laid out their blankets and pillows either side of the fire. As they lay on the ground, their heads by the tree trunk, Liz chuckled.

"What now?" he asked, looking sideways at her.

"I must be crazy…we're stuck out here, no food, not knowing if we'll make it out alive, and…I'm enjoying this," she said, quietly. "Is that wrong?"

He smiled, looking up at the tree, feeling the warmth of the fire, but mostly enjoying the company. He was enjoying it too, for the moment. "No, that's not wrong. We both must be crazy."

"Night, Ress," she smiled, sleepily.

"Night, Liz," he replied.

"Night, John Boy," they said in unison, and cracked up.

###

And outside in the snow, their crashed plane sat quiet and empty. A cold tube that until recently had housed 7 persons. One deceased, buried inside the cockpit he'd died in. 10 comfortable recliner seats, empty now. The rear cabinets, stripped of their contents with doors hanging open. The cockpit cabinets, similarly ransacked and empty. And below the floorboards, taped to a wheel well, a glass tube with explosive gel inside.

The compass on it, frozen in ice now started to turn, drawn inevitably to the North, as the ice coating thinned. The gel, so recently a hard solid block was now wet along the edges, slowly thawing. And as the ice melted, slowly, imperceptibly, the compass turned toward its true heading. No longer frozen on 32 degrees, it slipped slowly, gathering momentum, coming to rest on 74 degrees.

And in the darkness of the night, the white shell of the plane lit by a half moon, became a yellow ball of fire as the bomb armed itself and detonated. The surrounding forest lit up in the orange glow as the ground shook. Snow melted, hissing as it vaporized under the heat, surrounding the plane in a pool of shallow water. And debris flew up into the night, pieces of a plane that had now been reduced to a burnt out shell. Metal panels, windows, cables and seats rained down on the snow, depositing the once pristine plane into a thousand or more pieces on the snowy ground.

###

"Oh my God!" Liz cried out as they jumped up, woken by the explosion. Clambering out from under their tree, feeling the frigid air hit them, they were met by their shocked companions, all eyes on the ball of fire that had been their temporary home. Standing in the snow, they watched in horror as the remains of their plane burned.

All eyes turned to Ressler.

"Donald…" even Red was speechless.

"Oh man…" said Young, which pretty much summed up Dembe's feelings too.

"God…I hate it when I'm right…" said Ressler. He was immediately shouted down by the others who had found their voices.

"Oh man! No! We love it that you were right!"

And beside him, Liz clung to his right arm, watching their plane burn in the night. "You were right…oh my God…you were so right…" she repeated, unable to comprehend how close they had all come.

And now they were truly alone in the landscape.


	7. Companionship

The flames drew them forward. As one, they approached the searing heat coming off the burning plane. They had been cold for so long, their bodies naturally sought out the heat. As they approached Red slowed, warning them not to go any closer in case anything else blew. They stopped, with the heat radiating on the fronts of their bodies as their backs were still frozen in the snow.

Liz looked up at the sky, expecting to see a helicopter or plane hovering. "Someone had to see that, right?!" she said, glancing down at the men around her.

Ressler nodded in agreement with her, likewise turning his attention to the sky. "Had to be hard to miss."

"Well, I wouldn't get your hopes up too much. I'm not sure where we are, but the fact we can't see any light in any direction would preclude anyone having seen our little pyrotechnics display," said Red, and Dembe turned to him.

"But someone could have seen, Raymond," he said, almost stubbornly.

Red nodded in a rather non-committal manner, and then set about looking around the ground. Ressler looked at what he was doing and realized the gold mine they'd just been given. The ground was littered with metal panels, windows, seats and cables from the plane, deposited in the melted snow around the plane. With the amount of gear they had salvaged – not to mention their broken legged companion – they needed a means to transport it. And here, all around them were 'sleds' of varying sizes, complete with sturdy cables to pull them with.

Young had seen it too. "Hey G-Man, help me with this piece," he said to Ressler, as he upturned a large piece of fuselage about 8 feet long. Struggling with his one good arm, Ressler helped him right the metal, looking at it sitting in the snow like a lopsided canoe. Red walked over to them, dragging some cables behind him, snaking them through the snow.

"I see we're all on the same wave length. These cables should tie onto these cross beams here, providing us with a perfect sleigh to transport our Mr Campbell. A second one can move all of our equipment. Gentlemen – and lady - I'd say under the circumstances, we're not doing too badly," he told them, smiling congenially as he dropped the cables into the pseudo metal sled.

Liz was picking up smaller pieces of debris on the ground, dropping them when she could see no use for them, then moving onto the next piece. She stopped suddenly.

"Oh God…"

Ressler turned to her, a few feet off to her left busying himself with getting the cables tied to the sleds as Young tested the lengths. He jogged over to what she was looking at.

It was the pilot. What was left of him.

Glancing at the seared body in the snow, he took her arm and turned her away, leading her back to help him with the cables. Ressler couldn't just leave the man like that though and called over to Dembe. As the dark man came to him, he pointed to the pilot's remains. Dembe knew what was needed and solemnly set about burying the man again.

Having secured two sizeable sleds from the wreckage and tied the cables to them, they slid them back across the snow toward their trees. The air grew colder with every step they took away from the wreckage, and inevitably, they turned back toward it missing the warmth. Liz walked beside Ressler, her breath coming in pants as she almost slipped in the snow. He turned to look at her, reaching his right arm out to steady her.

"You okay…?" he asked her, and she nodded, keeping her head down as she walked, her breath vaporizing around her face.

"Just need to sit…down…" she panted, and at that, Ressler stopped Young in front of him. "Sit in here," he told her, motioning to the sled sitting on the snow beside them.

"You can help us test it," Ressler told her when he saw her reluctance. She nodded, and he helped her down to it as Young watched them.

"Okay, M'Lady, your carriage awaits," Young grinned and proceeded to drag the sled across the snow while she sat in it. Ressler looked down at her, walking beside her and smiled.

"Better?"

"Well, I feel kinda silly…but yeah, better," she nodded hesitantly up to him. Ressler walked beside her, actually feeling pretty positive about their situation despite the odds stacked against them.

###

Their campfires had gone out under their trees, but all were still drawn back to burning wreckage. While the flames had all but gone now, the embers still glowed giving off a solid heat from the plane. Having loaded one sled with all their blankets, clothing and supplies, and got Campbell safely stowed in the second one they were back out at the wreckage, basking in the warmth. Campbell had woken up, but was still very groggy. Apparently he didn't have a high tolerance to pain pills and four of them had really knocked him out.

"Whoa…what happened to the plane…? he asked no one in particular as he lay in his sled, covered in blankets. "We should roast marshmallows…" he added sleepily, and Red just patted the man's shoulder.

Liz chuckled at his comment. "I vote we just stay here," she said, and Red smiled at her.

"As inviting as that sounds Lizzie, the fact is that if no one has come to see what this explosion is by now, I doubt they are going to. We still need to make our own way out of this." He put his arm around her, when she shuddered at that thought.

Young was watching them, walking toward them from the tail of the plane, amazingly still standing among the wreckage. As he approached Red he spoke up.

"You called her Lizzie, not Agent Keen. Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on here? Because Reddington, I don't know what you are to these Feds, but you sure as hell are NOT their prisoner." He stood, hands on hips facing them as Ressler dropped his gaze and then looked across at Red.

"Well, Donald, it appears our Mr Young is not the blunt instrument you assumed him to be," Red smiled, nodding in satisfaction, addressing Young. "The answer to that is rather long winded, and probably not something to be discussed while standing out here."

Young looked at Red, then back at Ressler. "Oh, I think this is the perfect time. So what gives Fed?"

Ressler looked at Young, seeing the mirror of his own expression in the man. "I have a question for you first. What's going to happen when we reach civilization and get help? What are you going to do with Reddington?" he asked Young.

"My job is to hand him over to my boss. You know that."

Ressler met his gaze evenly. "I know what your job is. You didn't answer the question."

Red piped up again. "Gentlemen. I think it's rather a moot point until we DO reach civilization again, don't you?" Young and Ressler both looked at the criminal. "Until then, we still need to cooperate. Such a lovely word, don't you think? Cooperation. It conjures up all manner of togetherness," smiled Red, taking in the similarity of the two men facing him.

Ressler had to smile and shake his head, despite himself. Trust Reddington to break the growing tension with a smart quip. But Young still hadn't answered the question. And until then, they had no choice but to stick together if they were going to get out of this.

###

Dawn was making its presence felt in the east, and with it, a slight breeze arose. They were still at the wreckage, clinging to the last vestiges of heat as the sky turned pink on the horizon. The fire was all but gone though, and it was time to move off in the direction of the road Young and Dembe had found the previous day.

With Young hauling the sled Campbell was on, Dembe took the cables of the equipment sled and strung them across his shoulders. With very little resistance on the deep snow, the sleds worked well and their party moved away from the plane.

Red, Ressler and Liz walked a few paces behind the two sleds, and as they walked away from the wreckage, Liz took a last look back. Ressler saw her, understanding how she felt. Though it was a pile of blackened metal now, it had been their home out here and now they were venturing out away from it.

"We'll be okay, Liz…" he reassured her, hoping like hell he was right.

Campbell was finally awake, and had appointed himself trail boss from his position in the sled. "We're making good time folks," he spoke up, but was largely ignored for stating the obvious.

Ressler looked at him, seeing how 'easy' the guy had it compared to the rest of them slogging through the deep snow. He was aware of Liz struggling beside him, and had been hauling her along with him for a few minutes. She stumbled, and he quickly reached his right arm down to her.

"I'm sorry…I'm just…" she looked up at Ressler as Red stopped, kneeling beside them.

"She's exhausted. We need food." It was something they'd all been aware of, but had not been able to address it. Looking at Liz, pale and exhausted in the snow, Ressler felt unease in the pit of his stomach as he helped her up. Together, they sat her on Dembe's sled despite her complaints and then moved off again.

Red and Ressler dropped back a few more steps. "We need to find food Donald. And fast. Lizzie is feeling it first but pretty soon all of us are going to lose our strength." Red told him worriedly as the agent nodded.

"There should be deer out here, and rabbits. I've not seen any sign of them though in this deep snow cover," Ressler replied, adjusting his face coverings as his breath iced up on the outside of them. "When we stop we can make some pine needle tea, but it's not going to give us much at all, except some heat," he told Red, surveying the landscape around them. As they walked from the plane, the trees were still thick in places, but with small clearer areas among them.

The gentle breeze that morning was picking up, moving the blankets around Campbell now, and dropping the wind chill a little. After 30 minutes of trudging through the snow, their lungs heaving in the chill air, they finally spotted the row of power lines on the horizon.

With their target in view, they renewed their efforts, watching the power lines grow closer with every crunching step through the deep snow, their feet frozen in their boots. Not for the first time, Ressler worried that they'd all end up with frostbite and lose their toes. His head was down, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, aware of the wind increasing. His clothing tugged now by the wind, walking became more difficult. Blowing snow raced across the top of the powder, snaking its way around them in the wind.

###

Behind them, out of sight from the group, the wreckage of the plane sat silently in the snow, the last embers completely cold now. The snow laden trees around the plane sat as silent witnesses to what had occurred. The wind was picking up, depositing new drifts around the wreckage. A couple of white rabbits ventured out from under a pine tree, their noses twitching at the unfamiliar smell of smoke in the air.

The rabbits sat there, despite the unfamiliar smell, until a sound above them caused them to scurry. In the morning air, flying close to the ground, a small helicopter approached. Circling low above the wreckage, one of the two men inside pointed to the ground and the pilot sat her down in the snow.

Coming out of the chopper, the man ducked his head below the blades and walked to the tail of the plane, still standing upright amid the wreckage.

"It's the right plane," he yelled at the pilot.

"No survivors though!" The pilot yelled back to him.

The man on the ground didn't agree with that assessment. Walking in the blowing snow, the area around the plane smoothing out in the increasing drifts, he saw something. Footprints. Many, many footprints, crisscrossing around the area of the wreckage, now almost buried again but plainly visible.

"There were survivors. Several of them."

"We can't stay here!" the pilot called out to him as the wind increased sharply, whipping snow around the chopper.

The man on the ground hurried back to the small cockpit, knowing the pilot was right. "As soon as this wind clears, we'll be back!"

"You really think they're out there in this?!" the pilot asked the man beside him.

"Absolutely. And if Reddington is one of those survivors, my two employees will make sure he's found and brought to me."

###

"Donald…we're going to need to stop soon. This wind…" said Red, the wind snatching his words away.

Ressler turned to him, grimacing in the cold air, nodding. "I know. Just a bit more though until we can reach the road and see what's over that rise." He panted, determined to make it that far, watching Liz hunker down more in the sled in front of them.

And as he was watching Liz, his eyes squinting in the wind, there came a shout from Campbell.

"Hey! Look!" he was pointing off to his right, behind them. Coming to a halt, they took in the scene some distance from them near an outcropping of large pine trees. As the wind increased, whipping the snow around them, they followed where he was pointing.

A small herd of half a dozen deer were being pursued by several large coyotes. Their longer legs were keeping them ahead of the coyotes for now, but they were flagging.

"Oh my God…" said Liz, rising to her feet in the sled and stepping out, simultaneously horrified for the deer, yet knowing they needed food.

"We need one of those deer!" Ressler yelled and Young was already on it, having stopped the sled. "Where the hell are our weapons?!" he yelled at Campbell, who looked at him dumbfounded. Ressler leaned in to him. "You took them! What did you do with them?!"

"Oh! I did. Right." Ressler could have slapped the man. Campbell fished in his pockets, and produced Ressler's weapon.

He turned to Red and shouted above the rising wind. "Get under cover! Now!" Then turned and followed Young, who had already taken off in the direction of the herd of deer. The wind was increasing even more, making visibility harder as they churned through the snow. Behind them, Red had Dembe start heading for the nearest pine trees to make camp as the wind whipped up heavy snow around them.

His chest heaving, Ressler ran, his weapon held in his right hand. Stumbling, he couldn't stop himself falling and rolled onto his left shoulder, crying out in pain as his shoulder wrenched.  _Damn it! Get up!_

Young was still in front of him, drawing away when he heard the first shot. Finding his feet again, squinting his eyes against the stinging snow he made out where the man was. As he hurtled through the snow, the snarls from the coyotes reached him. One lone deer was the coyotes target now as it hung back exhausted from the herd. The coyotes had descended on it, and Ressler was faced with a choice. Did he kill the deer, but risk the coyotes turning on them when they tried to take it? They needed food, but he couldn't risk the coyotes attacking them.

Approaching Young who had stopped now, raising his weapon to fire at the coyotes, Ressler almost rang headlong in to the man and hit his arm to stop him firing.

"What the hell?!"

"Let the coyotes have this one!" Ressler yelled at him. Now pointing in the blowing snow toward the deer that were still fleeing, he added. "Take down one of those!" Young shook his head and glared at Ressler, but agreed and together they turned and ran after the fleeing deer.

One had pulled back, struggling through the deep snow and as they hurtled toward it, snow flying everywhere around them, they both zeroed in on the smaller deer. Behind them, the snarls of the coyotes increased as they brought down their kill. Without a backward glance, Ressler and Young ran and fired together on the hapless deer in the snow in front of them. It went down, killed instantly with both their shots.

"Damn! We got him!" yelled Young and as their chests heaved, they came to a stop beside the downed animal. Blood ran out onto the white snow and Ressler was suddenly back on his parents property, deer hunting in his youth. Except he hadn't exactly killed them under these circumstances.

"Can we drag him?" Young yelled into his face.

"She," said Ressler, but Young didn't hear him. "Yeah, she's not too big. Maybe a year old."

But Young didn't wait. "Aaahh, hell." And reaching down, he flung the small deer over his shoulders with an effort. Grunting, he turned to Ressler. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

Suddenly realizing they'd lost their bearings, they back tracked through the snow, passing a safe distance from the feeding coyotes. Following their footprints for what seemed an age, they finally made out Dembe coming toward them in the blowing snow. Young was panting hard under the weight of the deer, but refused to give it up to Dembe.

Dembe led them toward three trees very close together. Dropping the deer on the snow outside the tree that Dembe disappeared into, Young scrambled under the tree and fell flat on his back, exhausted. Ressler sat down hard against the trunk of the tree, grimacing at the pain that caused his shoulder, his chest heaving. Red and Dembe had got a fire going, and had produced the contents of the galley. A few knives, plates, cups and their life saver – one large sharp knife that would help them prepare the deer.

"You seemed… pretty con…fident we'd catch... one," panted Young from the ground, and Red smiled at the two exhausted men.

"Oh, of that I had no doubt."

###

The business of cutting and prepping the deer behind them, at Ressler's insistence, Dembe had moved the deer carcass some distance from their tree to allow the coyotes to come in and take it. They now sat under the other trees around their campfires. Young, Dembe and Campbell were under one tree, while Red, Ressler and Liz were under the other. They watched as the meat cooked in the fire, lying on the smoldering wood.

"Oh man, that smells good!" said Liz, echoing their sentiments as they eagerly waited for it to cook.

"Yes it does Lizzie," said Red quietly, looking into the flames.

She sat between them as they huddled at the fire for warmth, their blankets around them. Ressler's feet had finally thawed out but he didn't dare take his boots off, afraid of what he'd see. Outside the wind blew, whipping up snow around them, effectively burying their trees in additional snow drifts. Unseen and unheard, the coyotes quietly came in the dark afternoon and made off with the remains of their deer.

Their meal finally cooked, Red shared it out gingerly, placing the hot meat on their plates. They were starving, yet still had to wait for it to cool down.

In the other tree house, Dembe, Young and Campbell also chowed down on their meal. Campbell was feeling particularly good after Red had given him another pain pill. He'd done it before Ressler had returned with the deer, keeping that sight from the agent.

Their hunger abated for now, they cooked more of the meat to take with them. Ressler boiled snow in their cups, putting some pine needles in. As he handed Liz her cup of pine needle tea, she smiled.

"Thank you, my Boy Scout."

For a moment, as he handed her the cup and she looked at him, Ressler almost wished Red was in the other tree. And right on cue, the criminal spoke up.

"So when we reach the road, we will need to decide which direction we turn," he told them quietly, taking the cup Ressler offered him.

"So far we haven't seen anything out here, so flipping a coin is as good a decider as any," Ressler told him, and Liz nodded at that, sipping on her warm tea.

"Actually, I think we should turn left, which would be South West," said Red, and when Ressler looked up at him, he continued. "Simple. We flew into the snow coming approximately from that direction. It stands to reason we will walk out of the snow heading back in that direction."

Ressler nodded at that logic. It made sense. But none of them knew how many miles into the snow they'd flown, so it could still be a moot point. "But for now, we need to wait for this weather to clear, and keep on cooking all this meat," Red said, adding more meat to the fire after taking off the cooked meat and stacking it on a plate beside him.

"I may never want to eat deer meat again after this," Liz smiled, and they both looked at her and chuckled.

"Oh, I wouldn't knock it Lizzie. That little deer out there probably just saved all our lives," said Red, looking over at Ressler as he stretched uncomfortably under his blanket.

"When are you going to let me look at that shoulder of yours, Donald?"

Ressler looked at the man across the fire. "You just can't help yourself can you?" glancing at Liz as she smiled between the men.

Red tilted his head, looking at the agent. "Humor me."

"And that's how it always starts. 'Humor me' comes right before you practice your voodoo on me," said Ressler, his eyes sparkling in the fire light.

"Voodoo? Donald, I'll have you know, I have done many things in my life. Some pleasurable. Some not," Red paused as a memory came to mind, "Some… well, here and there. But I can assure you, I have never practiced voodoo," he deadpanned to Ressler, as the agent met his eyes, challenging him across the fire with his half smile playing about his lips.

Liz sat between them silently, watching her two favorite men bounce off each other.

Ressler, feeling particularly good having just eaten his first meal in two days, goaded the man good naturedly. "Well, you can't give me any blood – again – so what's the point?" he said, a small smile flickering across his mouth.

Liz snickered and hid her face in her blanket. Ressler glanced at her, and then back up at Red.

"Well, that is true. We're all out of blood transfusions today, Donald. But the orthopedic doc can still take a look," smiled Red, looking across at the agent.

"Really? And what will the orthopedic doc do? Cauterize my shoulder with a burning stick?"

Red lifted a small stick out of the fire. "Now there's a thought…" and beside him, Liz lost it. Red looked at her in mock disdain. "Lizzie, this is serious stuff."

"Right," she said, trying in vain to control her laughter. "I'd say you're not going to win this one Ress," she said, looking up at her partner.

"You're no help," he smiled at her, feeling that same abandonment come over him that he'd felt after waking her.  _While flirting with her…_ "Or maybe you just want to see me with no shirt on. While freezing my butt off, of course," he said, looking at her, a teasing smile on his lips.

"Well, I've already seen that Ress, when we got dressed together," she smiled secretly for the benefit of Red, the memory of helping each other out of the fake hospital fresh in their minds.

Red looked across at the two of them, tilting his head. "Is there something you two wish to share?"

"A lady never tells," Liz deadpanned to Red. Ressler met her eyes and then looked at Red, daring him to ask more.

"Well then. I seem to be at a disadvantage here," he smiled at the two of them. "It still doesn't help your shoulder though, does it?" he said, smiling hugely at Ressler, getting back on track.

Liz rolled her eyes and looked to Ressler. "Remember what you told me about Campbell? You can't win this one."

Ressler held Liz's eyes a moment longer and sighed. "Okay, fine, Doc. You can look at it," he agreed, starting to move his blanket off him and discard his coat with difficulty. As he slowly discarded his jacket and bullet proof vest, struggling out of his clothes one handed, Liz reached up and helped him. His shoulder sat bare in the light of the fire as Ressler pulled his blanket back around him.

"Make it quick, it's cold!" he told Red, but Red was suddenly all business, looking at the badly bruised and swollen shoulder, gently feeling it with his finger tips.

"Nothing broken…" he said slowly, still feeling around, as Ressler tried not to flinch too much. Holding Ressler's elbow, he gently eased the arm out from his side.

"Damn!" hissed Ressler through gritted teeth, "Okay, you've had your look now."

"I'd say you've torn your rotator cuff," Red announced, laying his arm back at his side. "Best thing you can do is keep it immobile most of the time, but do some movement with it each day to keep it from becoming a frozen shoulder."

"Frozen shoulder. You seriously did not just say that," said Ressler, looking at the man beside him, while hearing Liz chuckle on the other side of him.

"Yes, well rather a poor choice of words under the current circumstances, but still very relevant," said Red. "Let me look at your wound under that dressing too." As Red reached to remove the dressing from his side, Ressler stopped him.

"Oh, I think the doctor's visit is done now, thank you. In case you haven't noticed, I'm AM freezing my butt off here," he shivered, as Red shook his head, smiling slightly. And with difficulty Ressler proceeded to get his shirt, vest and jacket back on, again with Liz's help.

As Ressler put more wood on the fire, warming up the space under the tree, Red resumed cooking the meat a few strips at a time. They sat together in shared companionship, not saying much, feeling the warmth of the fire. Outside, the wind continued to blow, changing the landscape as snow drifts blew against the trees.

And in the tree beside theirs, Campbell wasn't looking very happy. "Okay, we're not making such good time now, folks."

"Well, thank you, Captain Obvious," said Young, rolling his eyes at the man.

And beside them, Dembe smiled and continued cooking the strips of meat to take with them when they could eventually travel again.


	8. Chesterfields

Three long hours later, after spending the time huddled around their small fires and cooking the remainder of the deer meat, the wind had died down sufficiently for them to venture out into the open and take a look around. As Ressler crawled out from under their tree, he took in the changed landscape. The snow had been whipped up by the high wind, causing high drifts on the north side of the trees. Liz clambered out from under their tree to stand beside Ressler, stamping her feet and hugging herself against the cold air.

"Think we can head out again?" she asked her partner, shivering as she looked up at him.

He nodded, also shivering, looking up at the white sky. "It might snow again soon, but at least the wind has gone making it safer to travel. I really want to see what's up on that road before we lose the light."

To their right, Dembe and Young climbed out from under their tree house and came to stand by them, having heard them talking.

"What do you say G-Man? We make a break for it?" asked Young, slapping his arms to warm himself in the frigid air.

Ressler took another look at the sky, glanced at Liz, and then turned to the man. "Yeah, let's roll."

Liz smiled to herself. There was something so definite, so 'in charge' about the way Ressler said 'let's roll' that she always liked hearing him say it. And, she noticed, Young had leaned toward Ressler's leadership without apparently questioning it.

Young turned back to their tree, slapping Dembe on the back. "Come on brother, let's get our wounded warrior stowed on his sled."

Ressler turned and watched Young head under their tree to retrieve Campbell. Looking at Liz, he spoke quietly, leaning toward her. "I think I trust the guy for now…only because we have no choice. But we can't forget that we wouldn't be here if it weren't for them and their boss…"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," she agreed, looking in the direction Young had gone.

"We just need to be careful…" he told her, then looked behind them as Red ventured out from under the snow laden branches of their tree, putting his hat on.

"Our equipment sled is now ready to go. It may be an idea to keep some of these provisions on you to try and prevent them freezing." He handed each of them a plastic bag holding some of their cooked deer meat strips. Liz looked distastefully at hers, but followed Ressler's lead and stowed it in her inside pocket.

Dembe and Young appeared again, dragging the sled with Campbell on board out from under their tree with Campbell protesting at how rough they were being.

"Any time you want to walk, sunshine, be my guest," answered Young, effectively shutting up Campbell's complaints for now.

Once assembled together with both sleds, they got their bearings and moved out, heading for the small row of power lines they estimated to be about two miles from them. They assumed their former positions, with Young dragging Campbell along, Dembe dragging the equipment sled and Red, Liz and Ressler following up in the rear.

They crunched their way through the snow, avoiding the snow drifts that were banked up high against the trees. The snow pulled at their legs, knee deep and wet, clinging to them as they slowly made their way through it. Their eyes focused mainly on the snow in front of them as they panted their way through each step, but every couple of minutes they'd look to the horizon, seeing the power lines growing closer. Beyond that, they could see nothing, as if the ground dropped away at the road.

"What do you think we'll find beyond that road?" Campbell asked them from the sled. His curiosity apparently piqued more than the others, since he was looking in the direction they'd come from, not seeing where they were headed.

Ressler was about to reply that he had no clue, when Red spoke up. "Somehow I don't think we'll find a five star resort. Though right now, I'd settle for a half star flea bitten hotel."

"A hotel would be awesome. A hot shower…dry bed…warm meal…" Liz mused.

"And a phone. A way to call Cooper," added Ressler, ever the rational one.

Campbell caught on to the musing. "With a bar where I could get lost in a long tall beer…and the female bartender…"

Red chuckled beside them, as Young spoke up from in front. "I'd settle for the bar, definitely, I'm with you on that. One that doesn't kick us out at closing time."

And lost in their imaginings of their mythical hotel, they trudged on through the snow, circling around the larger snow drifts. The air was still now, a far cry from the howling wind of a few hours ago. As they passed by a large grouping of pines, their green needles buried under marshmallow looking snow, two rabbits quickly hopped for cover under the trees.

Ressler saw them. "Where were you guys when we needed rabbit stew earlier?"

"Aaaww, leave them alone!" cried Liz, and Ressler smiled at her from under his face coverings, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they kept on walking.

Slowly but surely, they approached the power lines. Now they could see them clearly, running along the road from left to right in front of them. Ressler could hear Liz panting beside him, and quickly reached out to her to stop her as she almost slipped again. "Why don't you get in the sled, Liz?" he asked her quietly, but she shook her head, refusing.

"I'm fine, I'll make it," she panted, wanting him to understand that she didn't want to appear the weak one in their group.

Ressler got it and looked at her a moment longer as he nodded, but didn't let go of her arm. She didn't complain about that, he noticed. Red walked on the other side of her, also slipping his arm in hers.

"You can help hold me up Lizzie," he chuckled to her, and between them, the three of them followed the sleds, inching ever closer to the power lines.

###

After what seemed forever but was in fact only 25 minutes, they finally stood under the power lines on the unseen road beneath their feet. The road, invisible apart from the power lines marching away from them in both directions was otherwise featureless. If it weren't for the power lines they'd have walked right over it and been unaware of its presence.

They scanned the horizon from their new position, but were once again greeted with a landscape full of snow and trees. Unblemished snow sloped away from them on the other side of the road, running downward to a large outcrop of pine trees. As the power lines continued on their way down the road, they branched out with a line of them marching down the slope off to their right indicating another hidden road .

"Well. That's rather disappointing," said Red, summing up all of their thoughts at the distinct lack of hotel - five star or otherwise - as he surveyed the area.

"Aaahh, man. This sucks!" said Campbell, more poetically, "All this way for nothing."

"Says the man who hasn't walked a step in this snow," said Young, eyeing Campbell on the sled. "What were you expecting? A four lane highway up here?"

"Well…no. But, something at least."

"What is that…?" said Ressler, pointing down the slope and off to the left from their position, just behind the large group of trees. There was a difference in the snow. A subtle change in the lighting of that area in comparison to the snow around it, indicating that the ground dropped away.

"I don't see anything… Oh…there…" said Liz.

"Maybe a frozen pond?" suggested Young, zeroing in on where they were looking.

"Maybe. Or a quarry, or pit of some kind," said Dembe, his keen eyes now spying what Ressler had seen.

"The road running down that way would suggest something is there. And that seems to be the only option we have that may be worth checking out. Shall we?" asked Red, looking around at the small gathering.

"I vote yes," said Campbell, from the comfort of the sled, "and if it is a quarry there may be buildings at the base of it."

"My thoughts exactly, Mr Campbell," said Red, walking up to stand with Dembe.

Ressler was more cautious. Part of him really wanted to follow the main road they were on. And part of him knew that appeared to be pointless as they could see nothing along it. But still, they had taken so long to reach it. "Okay, but I think we should then stick to this road. I mean, it HAS to go somewhere."

"Which direction should we take though?" Liz asked him, looking up and down the barren road.

"That way…" He nodded to the south west, thinking of Red's comment about heading out of the snow cover.

"Donald, while there is indeed logic in what you are saying, the fact is, we're about to lose the daylight. If there are buildings in that quarry or pit, there may be resources we can use. And if not, we may at least find shelter for the night," Red reasoned.

"And it does not appear to be too far down there, Agent Ressler," said Dembe, siding with his boss this time.

Ressler took another look at the white sky, knowing snow was imminent and hoped Dembe was right. "Yeah, I know that, we need to stop for the night. But if the quarry doesn't pan out we can head back up to this road in the morning," he told them, as Dembe picked up the straps to the sled and began to move out. Red walked in front now, beside his employee.

As Ressler looked at Liz, who had taken a blanket off the equipment sled and had it around her now, she looped her arm in his. Her eyes looked up at him, red rimmed and tired.

"Come on partner. Let's roll," he told her quietly as she shivered, managing to elicit a smile from underneath her face coverings as they moved out after the sleds.

And they had no sooner left the roadway, when gentle snow began to fall around them in the silent landscape.

"Damn it," cursed Ressler, as he tried to urge Liz to pick up the pace a little.

###

In sharp contrast to the wind blown snow that had whipped around them and relentlessly stung their faces that morning, this snow fell gently with no hint of a breeze.

"It looks like a Christmas card…" said Liz tiredly, hanging onto Ressler's arm firmly now.

Ressler had to admit it was beautiful, despite their situation. As the sun was setting, a small break in the clouds allowed the sun rays to shine through, bathing the landscape in a golden glow. The soft snow flakes in the air were illuminated around them like tiny candles. Suddenly remembering her phone, Liz fumbled with it, and took one glove off and stood still, leaning against him.

Ressler looked at her with concern. "Liz, we don't have ti…"

"Look how beautiful it is Ress…I want to remember this…" she said tiredly over him as she took the photo. Placing her phone back in her pocket and then pulling her glove back on, she let him lead her again.

"Yes, it is," Ressler agreed, as he helped haul her onward.

They pressed on down the slope, noting how far behind the sleds they were now. With the slope, the sleds had picked up speed, and instead of pulling them, the sleds were in fact moving under their own momentum down the slope now as Young and Dembe hung on.

"I don't like this. We need to slow down!" Campbell called out, but they had to keep on going.

"Oh, you're fine. Quit moaning." Young told him, still hanging onto the straps of the sled despite the fact it was moving on its own.

The slope leveled out a little as it met the large group of trees that was still effectively blocking their view of the pit behind them. The sleds slowed a little, allowing them to finally get back in front of them and tow them, much to Campbell's relief.

Further up the hill, Red moved through the snow on his own, and even further back behind him, Ressler and Liz slowly brought up the rear. Ressler was concerned at how slow Liz was moving now, and he could no longer urge her on. She was exhausted, her weight dragging him down as his arm held onto her. The sleds were too far in front of them now for her to sit on one, and he had no choice but to keep dragging her on with him.

"Keep going Liz…keep going…" he panted, encouraging her again. Too tired to even reply, she kept on plodding along, putting one foot in front of the other as he clung to her. Ressler looked up in time to see Young and Dembe disappear around the outcropping of trees. Red had stopped, waiting for them now. Or perhaps he was taking a rest himself. Ressler couldn't tell.

"Ress…" Liz panted and went down heavily, pulling him down with her this time. As they lay in the snow, she turned her head and looked at him. "…can't…" she whispered, shaking her head. Laying in the snow with soft snowflakes falling on them, Ressler knew he had to get her up.

"Liz, come on. I know you're tired, but we can't stop now."

She was crying now, he realized. "Ress…I can't…"

_Damn it Liz. We can't stop here._

"Reddington!" he yelled out, unaware the man was already making his way back up to them. As he rolled over and climbed to his knees, he saw the criminal steadfastly making his way back up the slope. Turning his attention back to Liz, he tried in vain to lift her up. He couldn't do it with one working arm though.

"Liz. You can't stay here. You need to get up." He leaned into her face, urging her to move as snow flakes landed on her face coverings.

"I can't…can't…my head hurts…" she whispered, crying harder now. "…sorry…"

"Don't Liz… don't…" he told her, cupping her cheek in his gloved hand. She wasn't moving.

Looking up at the snow falling around them, he grimaced, needing to get her moving again. He needed to change tactics and looked back down at her, his face level with hers.

"Move it Keen! Get up off the snow!" he yelled into her face and at that he saw the spark in her eyes.

"Move your ass!" he yelled and she responded, lifting her head now, giving it one last shot.

"Move it!" he shouted and as she lifted herself up onto one elbow, Red reached them, and between them they lifted her back up onto her feet.

"Agent Keen. Get on your feet now," said Red, having heard Ressler's tone that had got her moving.

"I'm up… I'm moving…I'm moving…" she panted, still in tears and resolutely kept on going between them with Ressler on her left and Red on her right.

"Keep moving, Liz," said Ressler, gritting his teeth as he clung to her, dragging her along. And off to the west, the sun was slowly setting, causing long shadows in the snow now.

They made the tree line, and turned to follow the furrows in the snow left by the sleds. Liz was beyond exhausted, and Ressler wasn't even sure how she was keeping going. As the light faded and dusk overtook them, they could barely see. Rounding the trees, still following the sled tracks they hauled Liz between them. Exhausted, she almost dropped to her knees, but they hauled her back up.

"Don't you dare," said Ressler and she nodded and kept on her feet.

The quarry lay before them now, lit in the last rays of the setting sun. An oval shaped pit in the snow, about 500 yards at its widest. The conveyor belts rose from the floor of the pit, three of them standing like steel dinosaurs in the glow of the sun. And below them, three old wooden buildings of various sizes.

"Oh God…yes…" panted Liz as she saw them, leaning heavily on Ressler and Red to keep herself from falling.

The sleds were already on the floor of the quarry, and Young and Dembe had seen them now and were motioning toward a steep slope for them to come down. Looking at where the two men were pointing, they made out a steep slope off to their right. Safely cushioned in the deep snow cover, it would carry them down. Ressler looked across at Red questioningly who understood and nodded. Ressler thought for a moment that Red actually looked amused at their proposed method. Between them, they tightened their grip on Liz and made their way to the top of the slope.

"Hold on Lizzie," said Red, close to her ear,"This first step is going to be a doozy."

They then walked to the edge, and as they left the flat ground and stood on the loose snow on the steep slope, the snow gave way under them, just as they had known it would. Carefully keeping Liz between them, they leaned back, allowing the snow to gather speed under their feet in a mini avalanche. Propelled downward as the momentum forced them onto their backs, Ressler felt snow sliding under his jacket, the cold making him catch his breath. Sliding safely down the slope, they held onto each other as they slid to a stop at the bottom of the pit.

"Well that was fun. Let's do that again Lizzie," chuckled Red beside her. But as he looked down at her, seeing her eyes closed and her too tired to respond, the chuckle faded from his lips.

They tried to lift her, but then Dembe was suddenly with them and without a word, he reached down to Liz and scooped her up. Like a rag doll in his arms, he turned and carried her limp form across the snow to the buildings in the fading light.

As Young helped Ressler up, he faced the agent. "Nice move G-Man," he grinned, slapping Ressler on the back, ignoring the hiss of pain that brought about. Turning, Young led them to the middle building as they followed Dembe while Ressler brushed snow off himself. "The good news is we have shelter," Young told them, indicating the run down building in front of them, made of dry wood that had long since seen better days. "The bad news is, this quarry is abandoned. There's not much in the buildings. As in no electric or working phone," he informed them as he walked between them.

"Do we have a place for a fire?" asked Ressler tiredly, looking up as Dembe entered the building with Liz in his arms and Young nodded. The faded sign on the building read, 'Chesterfield's Quarry'."

"Yeah, there's a steel plate on the floor in the main room. Apparently we're not the first to camp here judging by the ashes on it."

They walked beside Young, slowly making their way through the snow, and as they entered the run down building the last fragment of sunlight disappeared behind the ridge of the pit, plunging them into darkness.

###

Using his phone light to see, Ressler checked on Liz as soon as he entered the building. Dembe had her lying against the wall of the main room covered in two blankets with a pillow under her head. Kneeling down to her, being careful not to shine his phone light right in her eyes, her pale face shone in the light. She looked up at him, and gave him a slight smile.

"I'm okay. Just really…really tired…" she whispered to him.

He wasn't convinced though, also noting that she was the one not doing well and yet still trying to reassure him. He touched her cheek with his hand, aware of how cold his fingers were against her skin, despite his attempts to warm them. "I'll get us a fire going and help warm you up." He told her and she smiled at him.

"Thank you… I'll be okay…" she said as she closed her eyes.

_Liz…_ Looking at her a moment longer, he then leaned back on his heels and then stood up to go search the area for firewood. As it turned out, Young had been right. Not only had this room been utilized as a camp site before, but the former residents had gathered a plentiful pile of wood and stacked it in one corner of the room. At about 10x20 feet, the sizable room was big enough for the 6 of them and their sleds, without being too big of an area to heat. Ressler busied himself with stacking the firewood on the metal plate in the middle of the room, making a larger fire than their small camp fires under the trees had been. Unable to concentrate on that simple task though, he looked back at Liz, shining his phone her way onto her sleeping form. Knowing she'd do better once they were warmer, he returned his attention back to the fire.

Before long he had it lit, and as the warmth filled the room they gravitated toward it, sitting a few feet back from it in a rough circle. Dembe had found their cups and was melting snow in them giving them water to drink. And with the water he was heating, and the deer meat they each had on them, they ate a sparse meal together as they sat in relative silence around the fire.

Ressler sat beside Liz, encouraging her to eat after he'd woken her up. She needed the protein from the deer meat. With an effort she ate another piece, washing it down with the warm water, before she lay down on the pillow again and promptly fell asleep. Ressler leaned on the wall beside her and pulled her blanket up around her shoulders more. Across from them, he saw Red retrieve the First Aid Kit from the equipment sled and open it. Finding what he needed, he closed the kit and handed something to Campbell. And as Ressler watched him take a swig of his water and toss something back in his throat, he knew Red had just given the man a pain pill.

And sitting back against the wall, Ressler felt his heart rate rising as a low grade panic started to burn in his gut. And despite the warmth of the fire and the proximity of his sleeping partner beside him, he suddenly, desperately, needed some air. Needed to be alone for a few minutes. Clambering to his feet and dropping his blanket to the floor as he did so, he quickly headed for the door.

"Donald, you okay?" asked Red quietly from beside Campbell.

He briefly looked back at the man silently and unable to answer, stepped outside into the cold night air. And under a cloudy night sky, barely lit by the moon behind the clouds as soft flakes of snow fell, Ressler began to run. As fast as he was able to in the knee deep snow, he ran with his lungs heaving as snow flew about him. And not even caring which direction he went, he ran along the bottom of the quarry, avoiding the still forms of the conveyors, the only sound being his ragged breaths in the night air.

And when he couldn't run another step, falling to his knees in the snow, his breath formed huge clouds of vapor around him as he panted for breath. Clenching his fists inside his gloves, he raised his head to the sky and gulped in frigid cold air as helpless tears sprang to his eyes.

_Damn it. Damn it._

Their situation was dire, and he could see no way out of it. And a brain that was fixated on pain pills when he needed to be getting them out of this – getting Liz out of this – wasn't helping. Kneeling in the snow, he wanted to scream, but stayed silent, effectively screaming on the inside.

And kneeling in the snow, he crouched down, rocking in the cold, white snow as tears threatened.  _Oh God..._

"Donald…"

Ressler wasn't even aware Red had walked up to him, but suddenly the man was there, calmly standing off to the side a few feet away from him. He ignored him.

"I understand when a man wants some time to himself. But under the circumstances, that could prove deadly out in these conditions alone."

"I'm fine."

"Of course you are. That's why you're out here alone sitting in the snow in sub zero temperatures. What's on your mind Donald?"

_What's on my mind? Are you serious?!_

"You know what's on my mind."

"I have a pretty good idea. The same thing that's on all of our minds. How are we going to get out of here? Will we have enough food? Will we freeze to death before we are found or reach safety?"

Ressler didn't answer the man.

"But of course, there are additional concerns for you. Will Lizzie be okay? And let's not forget the biggie – your drug of choice is mere feet away from you at all times. How am I doing so far?"

Red came to stand in front of him, his hands shoved in his pockets, gauging Ressler's reaction.

Ressler swallowed hard, still on his knees and said nothing. Of course Red had nailed it in one.

"Lizzie will be okay. It's a matter of physics. Her body weight is so much less than the rest of us and these conditions are affecting her greater. And let's not forget that she does have a concussion," Red reassured him.

Ressler looked up, and nodded, hoping the criminal was right.

Red's tone changed as he crouched down to the agent. "We haven't spoken of your problem since the night I flew you back from Sitka. But I'm well aware of its impact in your life Donald."

"You couldn't possibly know how I feel," he told Red, leaning back on his haunches more in the snow as he shot a look up to Red. And suddenly the image of Dr Friedman was in his head.  _I feel like CRAP._

"I know far more than you think Donald. I see things. I read people. It's what's kept me alive this long. It's what kept me out of your clutches for so long."

Ressler glared at the criminal. "Oh, you just had to rub that in, didn't you? Special Agent Donald Ressler. Failed yet again to catch Raymond Reddington."

"On the contrary. Your system failed you. But you didn't fail."

"Really? You giving yourself up doesn't count as me catching you. And nor does that little charade we pulled off that landed us all out here. You realize that, right?!"

Red cocked his head slightly, looking at Ressler in the snow. "Situations change. You're well aware of…"

Ressler rose to his feet in one fluid motion, holding up his right hand to stop Red as he looked down at the man. "You know what? It doesn't matter anymore. What's going on here right now, here, today, is far more important."

"Agreed," said Red quietly, rising to his feet. "Forgive me, but you seem to be of the opinion that getting us out of here is your job."

Ressler stared at him. Of course it was his job!

"Let me put your mind at ease. It isn't. It's a team effort, Donald. We're all in this together. You are not carrying the weight of this on your shoulders alone."

Ressler chuckled humorlessly. "If you're trying to make me feel better, you're failing."

"Oh, Donald, I spent years making you feel bad. I'm still practicing the flip side of that, my friend," smiled Red.

Ressler ran his gloved hand through his hair and looked at the criminal standing near him in the moonlight. Raymond Reddington.  _Bane of my life._

_Friend…_

And suddenly Ressler looked around at their surroundings. Out here, freezing cold in the middle of nowhere, the one person who was with him was the one he'd never have imagined would ever care enough to follow him out into this. The man who had turned his life upside down so many times. The man who had given him things and saved his life just as many times. The man he trusted, as crazy as that was, considering their history.

He relented and opened up to Reddington. "It's been…difficult…since Sitka."

"I know. And my offer of having Mr Kaplan help always stands Donald."

Ressler nodded, aware of that. "I can do this on my own."

"Yes, you can. It won't be easy. But then, you don't usually take the easy road, do you?" Red asked quietly.

He met Red's eyes. "The easy road is highly over rated."

Red chuckled, gently slapping him on the back. "It doesn't build nearly as much character, does it?"

"Something like that, yeah…" said Ressler as the two of them took a few steps toward the building, the glow from the fire lighting up the dirty window in front.

"You'll be okay, Donald."

And as Ressler looked at the criminal trudging through the snow beside him, he dared to believe him.

As they approached the building, with the conveyor belts towering above them, Ressler suddenly had an idea, spying a ladder going up the side of one of them. He moved toward it and testing the footing, he began to climb up the ladder cautiously, not flexing his left shoulder and mainly hauling himself up by his right arm. And as he cleared the level of the pit and was able to see the surrounding country he looked around, slowly turning on the ladder.

And saw something.

A glow. Off to the south, the glow of city lights illuminated the clouds in a pale orange glow. He was unable to gauge how far, but in the bleak landscape they now had a direction in which to head.

"What do you see?"

Ressler looked down at the criminal as he held onto the ladder. "A way out of here."


	9. Conflicted

As they entered the run down building the heat off the fire enveloped them, gathering them inside with its warmth against the bitterly cold night air. Picking up his blanket from the floor, Ressler wrapped it around his shoulders and sat down beside Liz again, noting her pale face in the light of the fire. He would have touched her cheek if his hands hadn't been so cold. Lifting his gaze from his sleeping partner as he eased himself back against the wall, he found Young's eyes on him from across the fire.

"Enjoy your walk?" he goaded, a grin forming on his lips.

Ressler met the man with the same tone. "It was great, thanks. Lovely evening for it." Seeing Young break into a knowing grin, Ressler suppressed the urge to get up and deck the guy to wipe the grin off his face.

_You seem a little edgy…_

Instead, hearing Liz's voice in his head, he looked down at her sleeping beside him, ignoring Young trying to bait him.

"I'd love to go for a walk… love to have two working legs…" added Campbell wistfully as he stared into the fire. Ressler looked across at the man sitting with his splinted leg in front of him, and suddenly felt sorry for the guy. And as Young patted Campbell on the shoulder in silent commiseration, this time it was Ressler that gave the knowing smile.  _Damn, we're alike..._

"Oh, you'll be walking again in a few weeks Mr Campbell, mark my words," Red told him. "But speaking of walking, Agent Ressler's walk was rather productive. Wasn't it Donald?"

As Ressler took in Red's congenial smile that completely hid what had really gone on out there, he proceeded to tell them about the lights he'd seen on the horizon toward the South.

"So how far is that?" asked Young.

"Maybe ten or fifteen miles away," replied Ressler, suddenly realizing just how far that was. They had barely walked 2 miles today. Granted, they'd spent hours of that hidden under the trees. But even with that break and time to rest, Liz had almost not made it to their destination. His glance again fell to his sleeping partner, and almost of its own volition his hand dropped to her shoulder.

"Damn, so we're talking days yet!" exclaimed Young, shaking his head.

"Exactly," said Red. "So we will have to conserve our rations, and be on the lookout for more food sources as we go."

"Or we can always eat Campbell here, if he succumbs to his injury," deadpanned Young.

"Hey!"

Despite himself, Ressler chuckled at the thought of that.

"I don't think our situation will reach that critical point. Rest assured Mr Campbell, if you do succumb, we'll give you a decent burial," said Red seriously, his eyes giving away the fact he was having fun with the guy.

"Man, I thought you were on my side."

Red patted the man on the shoulder, smiling broadly, reassuring him. "You'll be fine. For now, we should all probably get some rest though."

One by one, the others wrapped themselves in their blankets and lay down. But as he sat with his knees drawn up as he rested against the wall, Ressler found himself unable to sleep. He stared into the fire, lulled by the flames. Being bodily tired wasn't enough. He couldn't shut his brain down. He might not be in charge of getting them out of here, as Red had so eloquently told him but that didn't mean his brain wasn't going to keep mulling over it. Calculating the distance in his head he figured it was going to take 5-6 days to reach the town, though they would likely come across a house long before they reached the actual town, cutting down their travel days. They had food for maybe 2 more days, and that was pushing it.

Having already made up his mind that he'd ration his portion and save it for Liz, he'd also decided she was riding on the sled from now on, despite the protests he knew she'd give. And almost as if she knew he was 'ordering her around' in his mind, she stirred under his hand and rolled onto her back. Opening her eyes, she appeared disoriented for a moment before seeing his tousled blonde hair leaning over her as his tired eyes held hers.

"Hey…" he said as she focused on him.

"Hey…" she whispered, becoming aware of the sounds of the sleeping and snoring men around them.

"How are you feeling?" he whispered to her.

"Better…I need to sit up…"

"You should rest more."

"Help me up." And this time, she wasn't asking. Ressler smiled, knowing that she really was feeling better and helped her sit up and lean against the wall beside him. Their feet to the fire and blankets around them, it was almost cozy and definitely warm in the enclosed space.

"How's your head?" he asked, as she reached up with her hand to gingerly feel the bump that was still there.

"It hurts… Do we have any aspirin in the First Aid Kit?" she asked him, and then stopped, knowing what else was in there and the pull they had on her partner. "Oh. I'll go look…you don't need to…"

He pulled her back down as she started to gather herself up. "Stay here. You can't have aspirin with a concussion. Let me see what else we have." And fully aware of what else they had in the First Aid Kit, he was up before she could move again, making his way to where Red was sleeping. The First Aid Kit lay between Red and Campbell and he crouched down to it quietly. As he lifted the lid and peered inside, shining his phone light on the contents, he became aware of two eyes looking at him, caught in the firelight, momentarily startling him.

"Geez!" he dropped his phone as Red looked silently at him.

"It's not…it's not what you think," he stammered, picking up his phone and feeling like the proverbial kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Red smiled at him. "I know. There are some non-aspirin based Ibuprofen in there that you can give Lizzie."

Ressler didn't ask how the man knew what he wanted. This was Raymond Reddington. Some things you just didn't question. Finding the Ibuprofen, and thankfully not setting eyes on the Oxy, he closed the kit quickly and slid it back toward Red purposefully without saying a word. Red simply nodded and closed his eyes, resuming his light sleeping.

Back beside Liz, after dropping another log on the fire he handed her the pills and a cup of water. "Thank you," she said looking up at him. "And I'm sorry..."

He didn't ask what she was sorry about. He already knew. "It's fine," he said, dropping his lean frame to the floor and drawing his blanket up around him again. There was enough warmth coming off the fire that they didn't need to share body heat to keep warm. Yet in unspoken mutual agreement, they gravitated toward each other.

As they leaned against each other in the warm of the fire and under their blankets, Ressler's brain finally shut down enough to let him sleep, sitting beside Liz as her head rested on his shoulder.

###

The fire had all but died down by the time Ressler woke. Dembe was up and preparing the equipment sled for travel as the first rays of dawn came through the dusty window of the building. As he stretched out his stiff body that was protesting at sleeping on the hard floor, he gently woke Liz.

"I'm awake," she mumbled.

"Sure you are."

Red came over to them, having risen with Dembe. "Lizzie my dear, I don't want any protests. You will be travelling in the second sled today."

Ressler looked at her beside him, watching her open her mouth to protest, despite Red's warning, then saw her close her mouth in acquiescence. He grinned at her as he climbed to his feet, tossing his blanket over to Dembe to stow.

"Better do as the man says," Ressler told her and together they hauled her to her feet.

"Fine," she said, then looked around. "So where did we designate as the Ladies?" she asked them.

"Through there. There is a bucket on the floor. It's all very elegant and charming," said Red pointing to the doorway that led to a smaller back room.

"I'll be so glad when we find our five star hotel…" she mumbled, heading off to the doorway.

Red turned his attention to their broken legged companion. "Mr Campbell. Let's get you stowed on your sled outside, shall we?"

"If it will stop you from eating me, sure," he said, then laughed at his own joke.

"Glad to see you're feeling better," said Red, as Dembe and Young lifted the man and carefully made their way through the door with him. Once outside, they placed him on the first sled, ready for travel.

Ressler walked outside while they were getting Campbell situated and the first thing he noticed was that the snow had stopped. There was a gentle breeze, but nothing that was going to stop them travelling. As he walked around the dilapidated building he took in the quarry for the first time. He'd only seen it in the darkness until now and stood, hands in pockets, surveying the area. The oval pit had three steep sides, one of which they had slid down the night before. Off to his right there was a cut into the side of the pit, the roadway down which the gravel trucks had entered. That would be their exit point, the slope being such that they could traverse it fairly easily even with the sleds.

Walking under the conveyor belts, he spied the ladder he'd climbed the evening before and stopped again, looking up at the metal frame above him, standing starkly against the pale blue sky of morning. Turning back and looking toward the building they'd spent the night in, he felt it almost a shame to have to leave. They had shelter here. Yet common sense told him they needed to head back up to the road and start moving south, making their way slowly to the lights he'd seen in that direction.

Liz approached from the building, wading through the snow to stand beside him, her vaporized breath pooling around her face. Behind her, Dembe hauled the equipment sled as Young pulled Campbell along in their usual positions, as they made their way toward the slope to exit the pit.

"Coming, Agent Ressler?" called out Red, and he nodded to the criminal, making a move to walk in that direction.

"And Lizzie, come get in this sled," Red added, looking at her.

"I will soon!" she called over, putting on her gloves as she stood beside Ressler, making no move to approach the sleds. He stopped, looking back at her.

"Which way are we heading?" she asked him, and he remembered she'd been asleep when he had told them about the lights.

As he turned away from watching the sleds making their way toward the slope, with Red walking beside Campbell and talking to the man, Ressler explained to her what he'd seen.

She nodded, glad to know they at least had a plan, looking up the ladder near them that he'd pointed to.

"How did you climb up this with one arm?"

"Sheer stubbornness," he told her and then reached for her arm. "Come on, we need to-"

He didn't finish his sentence. From the air came a sound that they all recognized. They looked to the men making their way up the quarry toward the slope who had also stopped in their tracks.

"That's a helicopter!" yelled Ressler and turned, trying to ascertain which direction it was coming from.

Dembe left the sled and started to run up the slope, trying to get beyond the level of the pit to get a better look.

"Damn it! We can't see from down here! And they can't see us!" yelled Ressler, and once again took to the ladder, again stubbornly climbing it one handed. As he rose one step at a time up the ladder, the sound of the helicopter increased. Dembe was almost to the top of the slope as Ressler continued to climb. Finally clearing the level of the pit, Ressler looked quickly around and saw the helicopter heading parallel to the road above them. It would soon be heading away from them if they couldn't get its attention.

"Dembe! That way!" Ressler clung to the ladder with his left elbow hooked through the rung and pointed. As Dembe cleared the pit he ran, waving his arms in the air to attract the attention of the pilot.

"Is it coming?" Liz yelled and as Ressler watched he saw the chopper slowly turn and head toward them.

"Yes!" he yelled down to her and began to descend, mindful of his left shoulder. She waited for him worriedly at the foot of the ladder, as Campbell started cheering from the sled.

"Woo hoo! I'm not going to be dinner after all!"

"Yeah!" echoed Young as he stood by the sled, waving his arms as the helicopter flew over the pit now, whipping up snow under its rotors. As Ressler dropped to the ground under the ladder, he shielded Liz from the spray of the snow, waiting as the chopper landed. As it cut its engines, sinking down into the snow, they waited together for the blades to stop spinning.

The door to the helicopter slid open as the lone passenger jumped into the snow, making his way toward the two sleds.

"Hey! Are we glad to see you!" called Young to the approaching man, unable to make him out clearly as snow swirled around the chopper.

Yet even as he spoke, the man walking toward them raised a weapon on Red. "Stay right there, Reddington!"

Young immediately looked at Campbell. This was no rescue chopper.

"Whoa." Said Campbell now recognizing the man who had exited the chopper. "That's our boss…"

Red looked at the two men. "I actually had worked that one out. But thank you for the clarification." And as he looked at Young, the man slowly raised his own weapon on Red, facing him down as their boss approached.

From their vantage point, Ressler and Liz hadn't seen the gun that the passenger from the chopper held on Red. But they heard him yell out to Red, and saw Young raise his weapon on the criminal.

"Damn it! I knew I shouldn't have trusted the guy!" hissed Ressler through gritted teeth as he drew his weapon. He turned to Liz, "Stay behind me!" She nodded quickly, knowing she was unarmed and followed in his footsteps. And with Liz shadowing him, they moved out from under the first conveyor belt.

"Mr Young, I really had hoped it wouldn't come to this after our entire male bonding experience these past days," said Red, looking disappointedly at their companion.

"Just move toward the chopper Reddington. Make it easier on all of us," Young told him, coaxing him toward his boss with his weapon drawn on him.

"You are not taking him!" called out Ressler, gun drawn as he walked through the snow toward them as Young eyed him.

"I have to!"

The man from the helicopter turned to Ressler and Liz. "He's right. He works for me and is doing the job I sent him out here to do."

Ressler turned his gun from Young and pointed it to the man, "Not today. You are not taking him!" he cried out, as he shot a quick glance behind him to make sure Liz was right with him.

"Oh, I think you underestimate me." And in the split second Ressler was distracted, the man whipped his weapon around to face him, fired instantly and struck Ressler in the right shoulder. As the bullet hit him, Ressler cried out as he was slammed backward, knocking Liz down with him in the process. The impact dropped him to the ground with Liz beside him. And in a surreal motion, the ground suddenly gave way under them, tumbling them down some 15 feet below the surface as snow poured in on top of them.

Liz cried out as she half landed on top of Ressler, who had hit the solid ground hard on his back, knocking him out. Snow poured in on top of them from the surface, along with broken pieces of wood.

"What the?!" Liz screamed as the onslaught of snow and debris rained down onto her back as she half lay on her partner.

They had fallen through some rotten wooden boards into a room below the surface. Shielding Ressler's face from the brunt of the snow pummeling them, she leaned over him until the snow finally stopped coming down onto them.

"Ressler!" she called out to him as he lay motionless on the ground beside her, buried under the snow that had piled up on them. "No!" Leaning over him, she slapped his face, but he was out cold.

From above she could hear voices. "Get him in the chopper!"

And then a shout from Red. "Dembe! No!" And another gun shot.

"Get in there, Reddington!"

"No!" she cried, listening to what was going on above them, frantically trying to revive her partner, "Ress!" she yelled in his face.

"Oh God! Where are we?!" Looking around as daylight filtered into the submerged room, she made out boxes against the walls around them. They appeared to be in a below ground storage room.

And as she lay there, frantically wiping the snow off her unconscious partner, unable to see where he'd been shot, she heard the sound of the helicopter rotors turning again as they prepared to take off.

They were leaving them behind.

"Ress!"

###

As the helicopter lifted off, Red looked out the window, seeing where the ground had caved in. Unable to see into the dark hole he couldn't see Ressler and Liz in there, but knew that's where they had fallen into when they had suddenly disappeared from sight.

Looking up to Young sitting across from him, he held the man's eyes. "Well, I certainly hope this will be worth it, Mr Young."

Young looked at him silently, then also glanced out the window, seeing the last remnants of the hole in the ground disappear from view as they lifted out of the quarry. He looked at Dembe beside Red, who had been shot trying to protect Red and was bleeding from his side. But ever the faithful follower, he was still protecting Red, sitting beside him and facing down Young.

"We trusted you," he told the man quietly. "Why would you do this?"

Young looked at the dark man and again said nothing before glancing at Campbell lying beside him.

Campbell was not so silent though. "No hard feelings man… Just doing our jobs."

"Oh, that makes it perfectly acceptable then," said Red sarcastically, before leaning back on the seat and keeping his opinions to himself at that point.

###

As Liz continued clearing the snow off them, she discovered the bullet hole where Ressler had been shot. Carefully pulling up his coat, she found the bleeding wound in his right shoulder, beside the strap of his vest. Half an inch to the right and it would have hit the strap and protected him somewhat.

"Ressler, wake up!" Liz was still patting his face, having cleared most of the snow off them. He stirred, his head flinching a little under her hands. Holding his cheeks now, she kept calling to him. "Ress!" and as he woke he started, trying to sit up and falling back to the ground in pain.

"Ress…lay still…I'm right here…" she told him, shivering in the cold.

He saw her above him, then the opening in the ceiling above that, jagged wood edges with snow still sliding in around the edges. "What the fu..?" He tried to sit again and fell back hard.

"Lay still! We fell through some rotten wood, and through the ceiling of some underground storage room!"

"Oh God…my head… my arm…what happened to my shoulder…?" he asked trying to lift his head to see and falling back down.

"Keep still! You were shot in your right shoulder." She told him, still holding his cheek with her gloved hand. He finally met her eyes and held them.

"Are you hurt…?" he asked her, focusing only on her now.

"I'm fine. I landed on…something soft."

"You mean you landed on me!"

"Well, yeah, and you were softer than the floor!"

"Glad to be of service…oh God…Liz…" He closed his eyes momentarily as pain shot through both his shoulders again.

"And Ress…the helicopter has left. They left us here…"

He opened his eyes and stared at her as he digested that news, lying on the hard floor. Then grimaced and closed his eyes again, shuddering in pain and cold.

"We need to get out of here. We'll freeze down here…" he panted, shivering on the cold ground laying surrounded in the snow Liz had dug them out of.

"I don't know how we get out…" she told him, looking up at the hole in the ceiling.

"Look around, Liz. Look for anything we can open or go through. If this is a room…" he stopped, catching his breath. "If this is a room…there has to be a doorway."

"Okay, I'll look. At the very least, we should be able to light a fire." She hauled herself up from beside him, shivering as she stood unsteadily. Finding her phone light she shone it around, seeing boxes of various sizes lining the walls.

Walking slowly toward them, clearing the snow that had fallen down through the ceiling she approached the first row of boxes. Unable to make out what was written on them, she stood closer, shining the light closer.

"Oh my God!"

Quickly shining her phone up and down, she moved quickly to the next wall and again shone the light reading the faded writing on the boxes.

"Oh God! Ress! These boxes are full of explosives!" she cried, backing away from them in horror, and almost falling down beside him.

"What? Oh. From the abandoned quarry…of course!" he panted, trying again to get up but unable to get any leverage with the injuries and pain in both shoulders.

"Help me sit!" he told her, and she immediately turned and positioned herself behind his head, lifting him by the middle of his back, pushing him to a sitting position as he panted in pain. Sitting behind him to hold him up, they surveyed the room together, shivering at each others backs.

"Seriously…of all the places to fall into…" he shook his head in disbelief. "There has to be a door, Liz." He looked around, but was unable to see the entire way around the room from his position.

"Wait…I do see something. An area with no boxes…" she said, shining the phone light in that direction. "If I move, can you stay sitting?"

He leaned forward more. "Yes…"

"Okay…" and as she carefully got up, noting that he was indeed staying up by leaning forward, she walked to the clear area of the room. Boxes were piled either side of the opening, forming a small hallway that she made her way cautiously through.

"Yes! It is a door!" Holding her phone carefully in her right hand, still sore from where she'd hurt her wrist, she tried the metal door with her left hand. It gave a little, but then stopped hard.

"No!" Trying the door again, she shone her phone light by the latch, seeing a glint of something metal through the tiny crack in the door. "Damn! It's padlocked from the far side!"

"Damn! Of course it is," Ressler groaned, still leaning forward, but not sure how much longer he could remain in that position.

Liz hadn't come back to sit by him yet. An idea was forming in her mind as she shone her phone light over the boxes. "Ress…do you think we could move these boxes and stack them up…and climb out of here…?" She waited for his reply, expecting a complete rejection of that crazy notion.

"We can try…I don't know how much help i can be though, Liz…"

"Because the explosives would be frozen and dormant…right?" she asked him, coming to sit behind him again to support him as he gratefully leaned back on her.

"Like on the plane. Yes," he agreed, trying to flex his arms. Unable to lift the right and barely lift the left, he cried out in frustration. "But Liz, I can't even move my arms to do anything!"

"It's okay, I can try…" she told him, looking at the boxes and up at the hole in the ceiling. If I make steps out of the boxes over there…" she pointed to the side of the room closest to where they had fallen through. "That might work…"

"Go for it…" he said, panting as he leaned forward again so she could stand, grimacing in pain, but more so that he couldn't help her.

Approaching the first box, Liz looked dubiously at it. About 2 feet square, she had no idea how heavy they were going to be. If she could use them as building blocks, she could build a pseudo stair case. She hoped. She also hoped they wouldn't be blown to Kingdom Come in the process.

Moving the first box wasn't too difficult. It was heavy, but by positioning it on her right forearm and holding it in her left hand, she was able to stack the next box. As she continued stacking them, each box gradually felt heavier and one almost slipped from her grip. Grabbing it with her right hand, she cried out in pain barely able to support the box.

"Damn it!" she cried out in fear, terrified it would explode.

"Liz!" Ressler was finding it harder and harder to remain sitting. His right shoulder was on fire, and blood was congealing down the front of his vest as he still bled. His left shoulder was like a solid rock, unable to move without searing pain. In sheer frustration, he grimaced and cried out at how useless he was right now.

Liz looked quickly back at him as he cried out, struggling with the next box. After managing to stack it 3 boxes high, she stood back and surveyed her handiwork. She'd barely made a dent in what needed to be done to reach the ceiling, and panting with exhaustion, she could barely lift the boxes any higher now. Taking another frustrated look at the little she'd accomplished, she came and leaned back against him.

"Liz…I'm sorry, I can't help..." he panted, looking at how far they needed to go to build the staircase.

She was leaning against him, shivering and catching her breath, feeling his full weight against her as he could no longer hold himself up. She couldn't do it alone. It was obvious to both of them.

"Ress…" she turned her head to the right, as he turned his head to the left, eyeing each other over their shoulders. "I need you. We have to do this together or we're not getting out of here."

"I can't move, Liz…" he panted in pain. "I've tried."

"I know. You're in too much pain. But we can help that." She knew what she was asking, and hated herself for even mentioning the pain pills she still had in her pocket. And as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye and met hers looking around at him, he understood what she was saying.

_Oh God...she still has the pills._

"No…" He quickly looked back to the front, looking away from her and to the stack of boxes. "Liz, no!"

"Ress…I need you to help. I can't get us out of here by myself."

"Not that way!" he told her, shuddering as a wave of pain hit him.

"Ress…" Tears ran down her cheeks now. "I know. I'm sorry."

Grimacing and jamming his eyes shut, he leaned forward from her. If he could have held his hands to his face he would have, to hide the tears of frustration that sprang to his eyes.  _No. No._

She could hear his breathing hitching and realized he was in tears. "Ress…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that."

"No, you're right. It's… the only way…" he panted. "Oh God, Liz!" And leaning back against her, she felt his body shaking.

Moving around to the side slightly she retrieved the pills from her pocket and looked at them. Such a small thing. Eight tiny pills. And yet they held her partner hostage. She hated that they did this to him. Hated asking him to take them. And punching two of them through the foil wrapper, she turned more around so he was leaning against her shoulder and she could see him more.

And when she saw him, she broke down even further, seeing the struggle in him. "I'm so sorry, Ress…"

He nodded, his red rimmed eyes looking at her through tear stained cheeks. He looked at the pills in her hand. "Two… two isn't enough…" he told her, knowing his tolerance to them. She popped a third pill out of the wrapper as he nodded, meeting her eyes desperately.

He couldn't even lift his hand to take them, and taking her glove off, she held the pills to his mouth, and held them for him as he tipped his head back, the three pills falling into his mouth. As he felt them dissolve in his mouth, in that familiar taste and feeling, he hated himself for taking them. But even worse than the self hatred was that knowledge that his brain was happy he was taking them.

And as he swallowed the pills down, he raised his head and screamed in utter pain and frustration, as Liz cried beside him, holding her arms around him.


	10. Choices

As the helicopter flew on a straight course away from the quarry over the snow packed ground beneath them, Red regarded Young as he sat across from him. The man hadn't spoken since they'd boarded the helicopter. Keeping to himself, he had simply looked out the window the entire flight.

"So what is the plan, Mr Young?"

Clenching his teeth a moment, the outline etched in his jaw, Young drew his eyes from the window and motioned to his boss in the cockpit. "That's up to him. I'm just the hired help here," he said.

Red regarded him a moment longer, then nodded. "Oh, I think you're capable of being more than just the hired help. Each of us make choices in our lives. It just depends what choice we make at the right time that counts. Wouldn't you agree?"

Young didn't answer as he looked at Red steadily before his eyes landed on Dembe, seeing the man's dark eyes looking back calmly at him, despite the blood seeping down his left side.

Campbell spoke up from his position on the seat beside Young. "I'd have to agree with that. I can't say I'm feeling too good about this turn of events, if I'm honest."

Red tipped his head a little and pursed his lips, addressing the injured man. "Well, we agree on that, Mr Campbell."

And to emphasize the point, his steady gaze landed back on Young until the man grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny and looked up. As Young again met his eyes, Red leaned forward. "And how are you feeling about this turn of events?"

"It's out of my hands," Young said, then dropped his gaze. Leaning back in his seat he closed his eyes and didn't see Red smile knowingly across from him.

###

In their submerged room, Ressler and Liz sat huddled together in the cold. Feeling Liz's supporting shoulder against his back, Ressler sat with eyes closed and his head down, waiting for the pills to take effect. His breathing more even now, he'd resigned himself to the fact he was now back on the pill bandwagon. And in a long remembered, achingly familiar sequence his body began to respond to them. That drawing, tingling warmth as the sedation entered his muscles. That calming sensation in the back of his brain that signaled them hitting his nervous system and dropping his pain level. And yet through that, his heart was cold and almost detached from the rest of his being. The hard weeks he'd endured without pills were now washed away and he was starting from scratch all over again.

"Ress, are you okay…?" Liz asked him from close by his head.

Her voice startled him out of his thoughts and sucking in a quick breath, he nodded and opened his eyes, but couldn't look at her just yet. Feeling the drugs moving through his system and invading every cell, he forced himself to stop thinking about the long term effects of taking them and instead raised his head to look at the gaping hole in the ceiling above them. Shattered wooden planks ringed the opening, forming a ragged semi circle through which the cloudy sky was visible. Liz followed his gaze, shivering beside him, taking in the spectacle above them.

Despite the throbbing in his head from where he'd hit the floor, his mind was already turning to the task at hand, dropping his eyes to the boxes Liz had already stacked. Estimating they were 12-15 feet below the surface they'd need six or seven levels, and each level was going to get increasingly more difficult as they hauled the boxes higher. But they wouldn't be doing anything if his arms wouldn't function. Which, of course, was the entire point to the descent into pill-popping territory again.

Moving his right arm a little, he tested how it felt. Sucking in a breath as pain radiated from his shoulder, he shook his head to clear it. While the pain was there, it was certainly not the searing pain he'd experienced earlier. Moving a little he leaned away from Liz to enable him to free up his left shoulder. Again, as he moved it there was pain and weakness, but not enough to stop him working on their situation at hand.

Now he looked at Liz, meeting her worried eyes with his. Their eyes matched, he thought, both in redness, tiredness and concern. He hadn't answered her yet. "I'm fine. Let's do this."

Gathering his knees under him to rise, he stopped midway and faced her again. This wasn't her fault. Licking his bottom lip and then attempting a half smile, he met her eyes again. He failed at the smile, but she saw the intent. "I'm sorry. You were right, Liz. It really was the only choice."

"But not the easiest," she told him, nudging into him as her hand found the back of his neck. He leaned into her touch for a moment. Definitely not the easiest.

"So let me help you up here, partner, and we can get to work," she smiled then put her arms around him and helped haul him to his feet as he leaned on her. Stretching out back muscles that were stiff from hitting the ground hard, he grimaced at the tightness, but those wonderful little pills were enabling him to stand. Extending his arms and testing them again, he hissed through his teeth as he did so, but kept flexing them.

"Are you good…?" she asked, watching him moving his arms.

He smiled ruefully then, giving in completely to this plan, fully aware they only had a window of a couple of hours before he'd need more pills to keep going. "Oh, I'm great. Raring to go."

Of course he'd use sarcasm, she thought. It was always his first defense. She smiled at him, "Then let's go build us a staircase, shall we?"

As they approached the boxes, stepping through the snow around their feet, Ressler was already working out a plan of attack. "We need more boxes on the first level," he told her, counting in his head. "We need eight, then seven on the second level, then six, etc, giving us seven levels each 2 feet high."

"That's a LOT of boxes, Ress…" she said, quickly counting the boxes she could see through the daylight filtering through the hole above them.

"Yes it is, but that should get us to within a foot or two below the opening with two boxes on the top level. So we'll need…" he stopped, counting to himself, "thirty five boxes…"

"Yes, Aram," she smiled, as Ressler's calculations reminded her of their colleague's love of numbers.

He snorted at the comparison, looking up at the ceiling again, then back down to her beside him and added, "And I hope he's calculating just where we are…though he's gonna need a bigger slide rule to figure this one out."

Neither of them had mentioned Red and what had happened above them. "Do you think Red and Dembe are okay…?" she asked him suddenly.

Looking above him as if the jagged opening could shed some light on that question, he pursed his lips before looking at her, "When is Reddington ever not okay?"

Nodding, she had to agree with that.

"So let's do this," he told her and together they dragged three more boxes over the wooden floor to the first level, increasing it to eight. Ever mindful of the boxes contents, they handled them as carefully as they could. Estimating the boxes weighed about 15lb, Ressler carefully kept his elbows locked to his sides as he lifted the boxes, taking some of the pressure off his wrecked shoulders. And lifting the boxes together, grunting as they did so, they added three more boxes to the second level as Liz pushed them toward him for him to stack.

"Why is this so hard…? They're not that heavy," she asked him, panting at the bottom of the staircase, leaning forward to catch her breath.

"Well, let me see. We survived a plane crash, haven't eaten properly in days, haven't drank enough, have been freezing cold, slept under trees, you have a concussion, I got shot, and then just for good measure we fell ass first through a hole in the ground," he offered helpfully, almost teasing her. And as he did so, he realized it was the pills that were having that affect on him. They had always kept him on an even keel.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Well, when you put it that way."

"Oh, and the biggy. We haven't had a change of underwear in four days," he said seriously.

She laughed out loud at that. "Okay, I'm sorry I asked," she said, meeting his smiling eyes. "Shall we continue our Lego project here?"

Smiling, glad for the momentary respite, he turned and gingerly stepped on the first level, testing the strength of the boxes. Fully expecting (and dreading) that his heavier weight would go straight through them, he breathed a sigh of relief as they held firm. And climbing to the next level, carefully placing his foot on the next box, he looked up at the ceiling which was now four feet closer.

###

Miles away, the helicopter flew in a straight line on a course for Rochester, carrying Reddington and Dembe further away from the quarry and its trapped occupants. Dembe leaned a little on Red beside him as blood continued to seep down his side, pooling on the seat.

"Do you think they are okay?" he asked Red, not needing to explain who he was referring to.

Red tilted his head a little before answering Dembe, noting the sweat beading on the man's forehead. "That I don't know. All we can do is assume that they are doing everything they can to survive and get out of that situation." As are we, he thought.

Below them, the snow depth tapered a little as they headed north, approaching the outskirts of Rochester. Noting a change in the pitch of the rotors, Red looked out the window again, drawing his attention off Dembe. Making a mental note of the direction of the nearest highway and surrounding features for future reference, he spied a lone building on the snow filled ground, surrounded by pine trees. Isolated, it was the perfect place for them to be landing, he thought, as the building grew closer as they descended.

Opening his eyes at hearing the change in the helicopter, Young looked out the window and also saw their landing point underneath them.

"Well, here we are Mr Young. I'm ready to find what awaits us down there, aren't you?" asked Red, grinning at the man.

Young regarded him through narrowed eyes, before drawing his weapon from his pocket and holding it on Red. The helicopter lurched, and then steadied as it came to a halt on the roof of the large building, burying the struts in a foot of snow. And as he looked at the gun Young had trained on him, Red held up his hand to stop Dembe from doing anything.

As the rotors slowed, their captor jumped down from the cockpit and slid the door to the passenger compartment open.

"Gentlemen. This way, if you please."

"Oh, it pleases me greatly. Isn't that right, Mr Young," said Red flashing his grin to the man holding the weapon on him.

"His name isn't Mr Young," said the man outside the helicopter.

"Oh, I'm well aware of that. Nor is his name Campbell," said Red, motioning to their broken legged companion, "But they're as good a names as any to refer to them with. And I've actually grown quite used to using those names, so I'll continue if you don't mind," he nodded to the man, clarifying that for him.

"Whatever. This way," the man replied, stepping aside as Young jumped down from the chopper, silently keeping his gun raised on Red, holding it in both hands on the criminal. Red couldn't help but smile inwardly at the similarity in how Ressler had held his weapon on him at times.

"And by what name do you wish to be referred to?" asked Red, standing beside their gracious host now as Dembe climbed slowly down from the chopper, leaving a small trail of blood behind him.

"I understand I am referred to as The Bombmaker. Such a colorful tag, but I much prefer Anton," he replied, not specifying if that were his first name or his last.

"Well, Anton. It's cold out here. Perhaps we should take this inside. And my man here needs medical attention," said Red, tipping his head to the side and regarding Anton steadily, ignoring Young holding his weapon on him for the moment.

###

After almost an hour of carrying boxes and stacking them, both Ressler and Liz were wearing out fast. Their smiles and joking had subsided, leaving them working in a silent environment punctuated with their grunts as the pile of boxes grew. Now on the fourth level, each level took longer with how much higher they had to haul each box, but they were making good headway. They couldn't go for much longer though. Balancing himself with his hands on the next level, blood drops falling under him onto the boxes, Ressler dropped his head and closed his eyes. His shoulders were now seriously picking up the pace in the pain department and screaming relentlessly at him. His head likewise had resumed it's thumping, the little guy in there with the jack hammer having fired it up again.

"You okay?" she asked, fully aware that he was not even close to okay.

"Yeah, hand me the next one," he panted.

Struggling as she placed it on the second level, she stepped back as he came slowly down the steps to retrieve it. Clenching his jaw as he lifted it, he hauled it to the next level, ignoring the blood that he was smearing on the box.

"We need to stop and rest…" she told him, barely able to keep standing now as her breath came in gulps. Hunched over, her attention was drawn to the dark red blood drops on the bottom and second level.

Looking up at her stubborn partner, she tried to stop him again. "Ress, we need to take a break and try and stop that bleeding," she told him worriedly.

"Liz, I have to keep going while…while I still can…" he panted, well aware he was bleeding, but knowing the pain deadening effect of the pills had almost worn off.

Still doggedly persevering, Ressler was pushing another box toward the wall on the fourth level when a wave of dizziness passed over him. Stopping and closing his eyes, he waited for the moment to pass. Liz hadn't seen, her attention still on his blood smeared all over the bottom steps.

"Ress… I know you want to keep going, but I'm not sure I can," she told him, panting hard in the cold air. "And…" she stopped.

He opened his eyes, turning to her and looking down from his elevated position. "And?"

"I need to pee."

"Happens to us all, Liz. I won't look," he assured her.

"I know…I just. Oh, to hell with it." Making her way slowly to the small hallway near the door, she quickly undressed and took care of business. Shivering as she redressed, she then walked back out to the staircase in time to see Ressler swaying up on the fourth level.

"Ress!"

"I'm fine… I'm just…" Knowing he would likely fall if he continued, he slowly made his way downward, then sat heavily against the wall at the base of their stairs.

"We need to get that bleeding stopped," she admonished him, but was mostly upset with herself that she hadn't insisted on that before they'd got started. But then, at the time all they had been concentrating on had been the pills.

"And I'm guessing you're all out of feminine products, right?" he asked, half smiling up at her before he dropped his throbbing head to the wall behind him.

"All out, I'm afraid," she replied, kneeling down to him before flopping down at his side. Opening up his jacket she shone her phone light on his right shoulder, as the light illuminated the dark red blood seeping down the front of his vest.

"We need something to wedge in there and keep pressure on it…" she said, thinking out loud.

Rolling his head to her as he continued leaning back against the wall, he was about to tell her he didn't know what they could use when his brain kicked into gear. "The tag. The FBI tag on the back of our vests. Pull it off the Velcro…" he told her, leaning forward.

"Good one…" as he leaned forward she ran her hand up the inside of his jacket, found the tag, ripped the Velcro, then pulled it out from under his jacket.

"Damn, now I'm colder," he said as the thick layer of fabric left his back. She couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

Folding it carefully, she leaned into him and wedged the folded fabric under the strap of his vest, then tightened the Velcro strap a little more to keep it firmly in place.

"Shit…" he cursed as she sat it in place and the pressure suddenly increased on the bullet entry point in his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he slowly leaned back against the wall again as he adjusted to the new level of pressure.

"Sorry…it needs to be tight," she apologized.

"I know. It's fine."

"We need to eat something, Liz," he told her as the pain in his shoulders signaled the fading of the pain numbing affect in his system. "Here…share this out…" he told her as he reached for his packet of deer meat from his inside front pocket.

Despite their exertion and the close proximity it had sat to his torso, the meat was half frozen. "Oh, how appetizing…" she said, but realizing they needed to eat, she handed him a piece.

"Grab handfuls of snow and let it melt in your mouth," he told her, "and we'll have a banquet."

###

As Anton led them off the roof toward a small building on one corner, they made their way down a metal staircase to enter the top floor of the building. Young followed them, ever watchful, his gun drawn on Red.

"Just what do think I'm going to do, Mr Young?" Red asked him, glancing back over his shoulder as they made their way down the stark metal stairs.

Young regarded him silently, motioning with the gun for him to keep moving. Behind them, two men carried Campbell down the stairway between them. As he grunted in pain at their manhandling of him, he looked down to Red. "Sure could do with one of those pain pills you had," he said, and then turned quickly to one of his handlers as his leg swung precariously, "Geez! Watch it!"

Red turned his attention to Dembe walking beside him. Obviously in pain and still losing blood, Red knew the man would never complain and would stoically go on until he dropped.

As they exited the stair case, Anton motioned to two men who were approaching them. "Take them down to the lower level," he said and turned to Red, "I'm sure you'll find the accommodations down there acceptable."

"And I take it once we are there, my man here will receive medical attention?" Red stood his ground firmly, facing Anton.

Anton threw a cursory glance over Dembe. "He should have thought about that before he tried to knock me down. He'll be fine."

Red took his hat off and stepped closer to Anton, smiling broadly. "I take it you've heard of a little place called Geneva? Lovely place. One of the most beautiful lakes I've ever had the pleasure to sail on. Funny thing though. In that small part of the world a few men got together and drew up this wonderful little document called the Geneva Convention. A beautifully detailed transcript regarding prisoners and their treatment. An absolute crowning achievement to the inherent good in mankind."

The thin set of his mouth no longer smiling, Red took a step closer to their captor and hardened his tone. "And in that document it expressly states that all prisoners shall receive medical attention. And you will provide that for my man here immediately."

"Yeah, he took care of me…" said Campbell looking over his shoulder as his two handlers led him away from the gathering.

Anton folded his arms and faced Red, a small smile forming. "I'm not from Geneva. He'll be fine." Turning to his men, he stepped back, ordering them to take them to the lower level.

Before he moved, Red drew his eyes off Anton and turned to Young behind him. His weapon still raised he stood silently, his jaw clenched firmly as he maintained his two handed hold on the gun.

Red tilted his head and smiled slightly. "Choices, Mr Young."

"Shut up."

And dismissing the gun wielding man behind him, Red turned back to Dembe before the two of them followed the men to the lower levels.

###

"So…are you ready to take more pills, so we can get started again…?" Liz asked her partner quietly as they sat shivering together on the floor beside their staircase, their gourmet meal complete.

He dropped his head, sighed and then looked up at the stack of boxes on their half complete staircase. "Yes. Give me two of them…" he told her quietly, then closed his eyes, exhaling heavily.

As her fingers broke the two pills out of the foil package, he silently met her eyes before holding out his hand for her to drop them into. The residue from the first three pills was still in his system, enabling him to still move his left arm a little. "Shit…" he cursed under his breath again and then downed the two pills. They dissolved in his mouth, their bitter taste simultaneously loathed and welcomed in the war waging inside him.

Knowing it wouldn't take long for him to feel them, she sat by him in support as he resumed his former position, head down and eyes closed as he waited for them to take affect. He didn't hold that position long though, and looked up after a minute and shook his head, chuckling without humor.

"You're different when you're on the pills…" she said quietly.

"I know."

"You're still 'you' though. But I think maybe the pill version knows how to lighten up a little more? Maybe isn't afraid to show a sense of humor?" she offered, tilting her head as she looked at him, gauging his reaction.

Biting his bottom lip momentarily, he looked sideways at her leaning against him. "I do lighten up around you though," and then gave her his half smile, "well, when I'm not being an absolute prick, right?"

"Well, there is that, yeah," she smiled, seeing the pills calming him and taking affect. Raising her head, her hair fell back onto her shoulders as she counted the boxes. "We're almost there. Three more small levels to go," she said and looked at him again. "Ready?"

He nodded, the pain in his head having settled back to a dull throb as he tested his arms, feeling that he could work again. "Yup. Let's do this and get the hell out of here."

"And then what…?" she dared to ask the question.

"Oh, that's easy. We high tail it to that building and light a damn fire to warm up."

As he placed the final box to complete the fourth level, he kneeled back on his haunches and looked up at the opening. They were still a good 6-8 feet below it. The light in the sky was changing and he quickly looked at his watch.

"Damn. Liz, we're going to be out of daylight in an hour," he called down, unable to believe where the time had gone. Climbing down as quickly and safely as he could, ignoring the light dizziness that brought about, he helped her stack the final nine boxes they'd need near the foot of the staircase.

As he moved up the stairs quicker, she cautioned him to be careful. "No sense in breaking our necks at this point of the game, right?"

"Yes, mom..." he muttered.

"I heard that."

He grinned despite himself, pushing the next box in place. Now she was meeting him on the third level with their next box, giving him one less level to haul the box up to. From his position at the top of the boxes, now some ten feet off the floor, he began the process of stacking the second level from the top, needing only three boxes to complete it. Pushing the third one, feeling the pain level starting to increase again, he again looked to the opening. Testing the hold as he clambered onto the box, he carefully stood, ignoring Liz's hiss from below and standing on the second level from the top, found himself level with the ceiling. Clouds were scudding across the sky, indicating the wind was rising as the breeze ruffled his short hair. They were almost there. Two more boxes and they could climb out.

"Hurry, Liz," he told her, as he again reached the mid point of the steps to retrieve the next to last box. Dragging it up with him, panting as he reached the top he placed it by the wall, barely sparing time to look up before heading back down.

"Last box," she said tiredly, "Is it going to be enough to get us out?"

"Yes, but I have to break some of the wood away first. I don't want to put my weight on that and have it cave in again."

She looked up quickly, seeing how much wood he'd need to break, finding it more difficult now as the light faded in the sky. She didn't relish the prospect of climbing up the stairs to begin with. But in the dark, that was going to be challenging.

Climbing up to place the last box, he grunted his way to the top with it in his arms, and thankfully placed it beside its companion on the top level. Gingerly kneeling on the top level, balancing his weight 14 feet off the floor, he looked down at her. "Stand back, I'm going to push some of this wood down," he called down.

In what felt both horrifying and a huge relief, the wood broke away very easily under his gloved hands, raining wood and snow down to the bottom of the room as Liz stood well out the way. Quickly brushing the bulk of the wet snow off the top boxes, having now made an opening safe enough for them to climb out of, he looked down to her again.

"I'm going out, then you come up and I'll help you, okay?" he called down. Not waiting for her reply as the sun began to set, he slowly stood on the box, raising himself waist high out of the hole. With an effort, he put his arms forward and grabbed onto a metal pipe running along the ground, grimacing at the pain that shot through his right shoulder. And supporting himself on arms that screamed at him, he hauled himself out of the room and fell onto the snowy ground. Barely laying there a second, he forced himself to roll to his knees, gasping hard before peering back down into the room.

"Come on!" he called down, kneeling in the snow as she started to climb.

She was half way up when she remembered something. "Wait!" and as he rolled his eyes, leaning further forward to see what she was doing, she climbed back down.

"Liz, come on, it's getting dark!"

"Your weapon! It's still down here and we will probably need it," she called up to him.

"Damn." She was right.

Taking her glove off, she scrambled around in the darkness in the wet snow at her feet, judging where his right hand would have been when he landed on the floor. The cold metal clipped her hand as her fingers dragged by it. Sitting icily in her hand as she retrieved it, she flipped the safety on in the growing darkness and pocketed the weapon.

"Got it!"

"Then get up here…" he said under his breath, peering into the dark room as she again started her ascent. As she grew level with the top she stopped and looked up, her pale face looking out of the darkness at him.

"You okay?" he asked her, holding his hand down.

"Yeah. I don't like this height…"

"Then don't look down. Come on, you're almost there…" he encouraged, as she made it to the second level from the top, reaching out his left hand to her, ignoring the pain level that was now shrieking at him to just quit using his arms.

Grabbing his offered hand, she held on tight as she scooted over to him on her knees on the top level now.

"I've got you… come on, Liz," he told her, moving slightly to the side as he held onto the pipe with his right hand. Blood was seeping under his makeshift pressure bandage, dripping on the snow as he leaned forward, dragging her toward him. As she gasped with a final effort, she flung herself out of the submerged room, flopping down beside him.

"Oh my God! We made it!" she cried, her chest heaving with the exertion in the cold evening air.

And beside her, as the toll of the last few hours overtook his body as he lay on the snowy ground, Ressler chuckled and then began to laugh deeply as tears rolled from his eyes and into his ears.

"Ress…?" she asked him, leaning over him, "are you laughing or crying…?"

"Yes!"

And at his non-committal answer, she grinned and flopped back down beside him, and together they lay on the frigid cold ground, laughing out loud in sheer relief in the dark of the evening.

###

As Red and Dembe were led to the lower levels, they entered a large room with an empty industrial look. There were no furnishings apart from 2 simple plastic chairs, grey bare walls and painted floor and at the rear of the room, 4 holding cells with metal bars lining one wall.

"Oh, how quaint. You were quite correct about the wonderful accommodations," said Red. "Tell me though, what have I possibly done to you to warrant this vendetta you have against me, hhhmm?"

"Oh, I'll give you some time down here to think about that," said Anton.

As Anton's men opened the doors to two adjoining cells, Red stopped walking, motioning to Dembe to do the same before turning to Anton again. "Oh, be a sport. Give me one little clue and I'll try and muddle through the rest on my own, thanks."

"2007. There's your clue."

"Oh, well that narrows it down. Though that was a busy year," said Red and was about to say something more when he was cut off.

"Enough. Get in there."

Entering their cells, Dembe stumbled a little, then immediately righted himself. Red quickly looked at Dembe and then stood back silently while the doors were padlocked shut behind them. Their accommodations were stark. A simple cot, sink and toilet.

As the two men left, Anton stood and grinned at Red through the bars. "Not so talkative now, are we?"

And as Red held his chin higher in silent defiance he stole a glance at Young standing behind Anton. His weapon lowered, he now stood with hands on hips looking at his boss and Red.

And as Red barely tilted his head, not needing to say a word as he met the man's eyes, Young clenched his teeth and looked away.


	11. Cold Comfort

Climbing unsteadily to their feet in the snow, Ressler and Liz drew back from the edge of the hole at arms length from each other, subconsciously spreading their weight. Each of them acutely aware of the ground under their feet now, they stepped carefully, eyes darting to each other then back to the ground, dreading it giving way beneath them again.

"Just walk slowly back…I think we're fine… But let's not do that again, alright?" he told her, shivering as they stepped back.

Once clear of the opening and feeling more confident they were on solid ground again, they followed their footsteps back to the building, walking together. The wind was picking up, tugging at their clothing and cutting right through their very cores as the wind chill dropped.

"God, I'm so cold…" she shivered, as every bone in her body ached.

"I know, me too... We'll get a fire going soon," he encouraged her, kicking up snow as they made their way to the building. As Liz opened the door, she remembered the sleds with the blankets and supplies.

"Leave them for now. A fire is what we need," he told her, shivering as they stepped into the building and quickly shutting the door behind them. It was no warmer inside than out, but in welcome relief, being out of the wind made it seem so. Under his direction as he stood behind her, Liz began to collect kindling for the fire while using her phone light to guide her. Loaded down with an armful of small sticks, she turned back to the steel plate in the middle of the room, only to find him staring at her in horror.

"What?" she asked him, meeting his wide open eyes.

"The matches. I can't find them!"

"Oh God…" she whispered, dropping the kindling onto the steel plate and stepping toward him.

Frantically searching through every pocket again, ignoring the screaming in his shoulders, he lit up his own phone and began to look around where they'd sat on the ground the night before. There were no matches anywhere.

"When did you have them last?!" she cried, as she joined him in his searching of the room.

He searched his memory. "Oh my God…" he said, realizing it was before his frantic run outside and subsequent falling down in the snow in the dark the previous night. "They must have fallen out of my pocket outside last night…"

They could be anywhere out there, buried in the snow. As the image of the small book of matches came to his mind, he was keenly aware that even if they found them they'd be ruined after sitting in the wet snow.

"Damn it!" he cursed, looking up at the ceiling and gritting his teeth. "Liz, I'm sorry."

"It's okay…it couldn't be helped…"

They needed warmth of any kind, and standing together, their eyes lit up as they both thought the same thing, "The sled!" It was their only chance now, with its cargo of blankets. But to reach it they'd have to make their way outside again and half way down the quarry.

"Can you make it out there?" she asked him, looking at him hunching over slightly in pain now.

"I'll make it," he told her, gritting his teeth and standing upright.

There was no way she was convinced. "Here…" she told him, struggling to reach into her pocket before handing him the sheet with the last three pain pills on it. "You need to take pills, Ress, so take them…"

"I'll make it," he told her, stubbornly refusing to take the sheet of pills from her as he hunched forward again.

"Donald Ressler."

He stood upright and met her eyes.

"If you don't take a couple of pills here, I will ram them down your throat myself. I cannot get that sled by myself. It's going to take both of us, and you won't make it out there without taking more pills. I do not need your stubborn male bullshit right now." And standing before him like a tiny sergeant major, she read him the riot act.

He stood still, regarding her silently. And suddenly he broke into a grin, looked away briefly and then back at her. "Yes, ma'am." And taking the two pills she was demanding he take, he swigged them down without further complaint.

"That's better," she relented, "Do you need to wait for them to kick in?" she asked him, clapping her gloved hands together to try and generate heat.

"No, they'll do that while we walk out there. Us males are kinda stubborn like that," he told her, holding her gaze a moment longer as his smile still played about his lips, before he turned for the door.

And just before they stepped outside he turned back to her in mock seriousness, "You know you're awfully cute when you're angry."

"Oh, just get out there," she snickered, and followed him out into the blustery wind.

###

In their adjoining cells, Red and Dembe sat together at the bars. Not talking much, they sat on the floor against the back wall, sharing each others companionship. Out in the vacant room a lone guard sat disinterestedly on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, rocking it precariously back and forth, his silence punctuated every so often with a bored yawn.

"Have you figured it out yet, Raymond?" Dembe asked him quietly.

Red lifted his head a little, leaning back on the wall as he searched his memory. "Not yet. It will come to me though, rest assured."

"Of that I have no doubt."

The remains of their meager meal sat on plastic plates on the cell floor a short distance away from them. As Red looked down at them, he was again disturbed at their host's lack of compassion. Sure, the man had fed them, but that was all. Basic common decency was apparently lacking in this individual.

He wracked his brain, thinking back to 2007, frustrated at what it was that he could possibly have done to Anton to warrant any of this. He had been in many places that year, and as his brain went through each country he'd been in and the various interaction he'd had, still nothing came to mind. Beside him, Dembe let out a small gasp as he quickly brought his head back up as he fought to stay awake. The blood seeping down his side ran over his clothing, congealing on the floor beneath him.

"I know Dembe… I'm working on it. Hang in there," Red told him quietly, out of earshot of the guard.

"It is okay, Raymond. I am fine."

Red looked at him. He was not fine. "I think it's high time I became a squeaky wheel here," he told Dembe and rising to his feet, he addressed the bored guard.

"Far be it from me to disturb a man so diligently working here, but I really must insist that I speak to Anton. That is, if you could take a moment out of your busy schedule here to summon him," asked Red, leaning his hands through the metal bars.

The guard looked up, apparently surprised that someone was even aware of him. "He's not here."

Red hadn't expected that, but rolled with it. "Who is in charge in his absence?"

"I'm not sure. I was told to stay here and watch you two."

"And I must say, that's something you're absolutely excelling at, by the way," said Red, before shaking his head and rolling his eyes at the ceiling.

"Where is Mr Young-" he stopped, knowing this dullard wouldn't know who he was referring to. "Where is the gun wielding employee of Anton's that escorted us down to these lovely accommodations?" Red asked the man.

"Who? Oh, that guy. Around."

Red shook his head as he regarded the fine specimen of intelligence in front of him. "Thank you. I must say you've been of extreme assistance." And as he was about to turn back to Dembe, he turned back to the guard.

"But just for the sake of something to do and the art of making fine conversation, tell me, how long have you worked for Anton?" he asked, not expecting much of an answer, but pushing on regardless.

"Few years," said the guard, "Why is that of interest to you?"

"Well, funny thing. I was just saying to my friend here that I knew we'd first met Anton in 2008. My friend insists we met him the year before that but couldn't recall where that might have been, but between you and me, I don't think so. So to prove my friend wrong here, I was wondering if you could possibly search that fount of knowledge between your ears with any idea of where he was during that time, and help win this bet for me," smiled Red, leaning on the bars.

"Oh, right. That's an easy one. He was in Germany in 2007. Because that's when I came to work for him while he was there."

Red stepped back, tilting his head in pleasant surprise at what had been inside the guard's head after all. "Well, just when I thought we were getting along swimmingly, you go and lose the bet for me. But far be it from me not to be gracious in defeat. You are quite correct. I recall it well now. Lommerzheim's Restaurant, Cologne, Germany, on a blustery autumn evening in 2007."

Turning back to Dembe, he continued, "You win my friend. I'll pay up when I am more flush. I don't appear to have any cash on my person at this moment."

Dembe nodded, his face slowly breaking out into a smile as Red came and sat next to him again. There were times he simply loved to watch the way his boss worked.

And bored once again with the conversation, the guard continued rocking back and forth on the plastic chair, as Red waited for the man to fall flat on his ass at some point. But he had his information. He'd narrowed down the timeline, and now just had to ascertain exactly what he'd done to Anton in Cologne in 2007.

###

Their heads down against the wind, Ressler walked in front of Liz to protect her from the brunt of the wind that was hitting them, dropping them into dangerously low wind chills. With barely any light, apart from a moon that occasionally shone through the overcast sky, they couldn't make out where the sleds were yet as they made their way parallel to the sloped exit ramp on their right.

Putting out her hand to reach for Ressler's back, she touched him but was unable to hang onto him with fingers she could no longer feel. He immediately turned back to her, keeping his back to the wind.

"I don't…feel… good…" she looked up at him, shaking so hard she could barely get the words out.

Neither did he. It was far too cold. This was lunacy, yet in a crazy Catch-22, they needed to be out in it to retrieve the blankets that would be the only thing out here to warm them. Holding out his arms quickly he caught her as she fell into him, shuddering with cold. He was no warmer than her, but held her as the wind blew around them and through them. Her head dropped to his chest, and he felt her slipping as he hoisted her back up against him. She wasn't going to make it.

"Keep going Liz…" Walking backward with her in his arms now, he dragged her with him, glancing behind him every few steps to see where he was going. The wind was brutal, cutting into them and dropping their skin temperatures. For the first time, Ressler was acutely aware of how desperate their situation had become. Hitting him right in the forefront of his brain, he realized they could die right here in this snow.

And that thought sustained him as he held onto her, clutching her to his chest. He briefly considered turning back. But that would be worse than continuing. They were at the point of no return. Grabbing at her as she slipped down his body, he cried out as pain flared in his right shoulder. "Come on Liz! Come on. You can do it." His throat was hurting as he spoke, but that was the least of his worries. He didn't think she could do it. But he wasn't quitting on her now.

The moon broke through the clouds, and as the white snow crystallized in the faint light around him, he turned to look behind them again. And sitting some 50 feet away from them, the white metal of the sleds caught the moonlight, briefly illuminating them in the stark landscape.

"We're almost there Liz… Hang on…" he shivered, his voice feeling strange in his throat. Making a snap decision, he stopped and kneeled down, dropping Liz to the snow on her knees. "Stay here. Crouch down Liz!" he shouted hoarsely into her ear above the wind. Unable to answer him, her body a mass of locked muscles, she dropped where he'd placed her on the snow.

With one awful moment of split decision – stay or go – he looked at her still form on the ground. For that split second he couldn't bear to leave her. But then his brain kicked into gear. If he didn't leave her, she would die right there.

Scrambling to his feet he whirled away from her and ran through the snow, heading straight for where he'd made out the sleds. On legs that should have long since given up, he churned through the snow as it flew about him, the white wet spray hitting his body. His chest heaved in pain as the dangerously cold air burned his lungs. And as he ran, he found himself panting and crying out; almost whimpering, yet no sound came out. His throat was too cold to make a sound.

He plowed on until he reached the sleds, finally coming to a shuddering halt beside them. Standing by them his hands dropped to his knees as he leaned forward, dry retching as the cold suddenly cramped his stomach.

"Damn… it… come on!" he told himself, forcing himself to get on with it and squinted in the wind looking at the two metal sleds.

Campbells' sled was empty for the most part. Grabbing the two blankets off it, he threw one around his head, tying it off in a makeshift poncho, covering his head and some of his face. The blanket was as ice cold as the wind. Almost ripping it off, he cried out, but forced himself to keep it on him. It wouldn't warm him but it would afford some protection.

"Come on… come on…" he panted, as he located the cables to the sled in the dark and tossed them over his head. Unable to put any weight on his shoulders, he lowered the cables to his waist and began to move, pulling the sled with him through the deep snow. For a moment it held fast as his legs struggled to find any traction in the wet snow.

"Damn it! Move!" he croaked at the unyielding sled as his legs slipped and brought him to his knees on legs that were so numb he hardly felt it. Scrambling to his feet again, the stuck sled finally broke free of its hold in the snow. Gaining momentum with each step, he followed his footsteps through the snow, looking frantically for Liz in the darkness. He couldn't recall her being this far down when he'd started to run to the sleds.

"Liz!" he tried to shout, but his voice disappeared in the wind. "Damn… Liz!" he croaked, and finally he saw her dark form crouched on the ground. Hurrying to her as he dragged the sled he reached her and stepped out of the cables. Dropping to her side he lifted her face to look at him as he crouched by her, his breath coming in shallow pants. Her eyes opened, yet they were glassy and unseeing. Unable to speak, she barely shuddered in his arms, her muscles too locked now to shiver.

"Come on Liz. I've got you." And unaware of where he even got the strength to do so, he lifted her bodily off the snow, cradling her in his arms. His back straining as fresh blood seeped from his shoulder, he carried her to the sled, his heart threatening to explode in his chest. Depositing her as carefully as he could into the sled, his feet slid out from under him as he let her go, dropping him down onto her. Quickly covering her with the other blanket from Campbell's sled, he gained his feet with an effort and started pulling the sled again.

Barely able to feel his legs anymore, he plowed on, pulling the sled behind him, carrying its precious cargo. Forcing himself onward, his body a combination of searing pain and disconcerting numbness, he dragged the sled, slowly seeing the conveyor belts rising out of the night sky in front of them. Pressing on, barely able to see as his eyes streamed and stung with the cold.

Pulling the sled, unaware of the cables cutting into his belly, he raised his head to the sky and screamed silently, barely any sound able to escape his tight throat, "Please!" he cried out hoarsely, needing someone, anyone to help them.

But no one was coming.

They were on their own.

And as his body trembled dangerously, his feet numb to the core, the building came into sight at last. Making a wide detour around their submerged dungeon, he approached the building and came around the front, slipping to the ground again, then dragging himself back up as he cursed at himself.

"Come on…you can…do it…" he whimpered, as he fumbled with the door and flung it open.

He couldn't drag the sled inside with Liz in it, and turning, he reached down for her limp form and again lifted her. His body threatening to give way at any second, he staggered inside with her. Unable to hold her, he stumbled as he dropped them both heavily to the floor. On his feet again, he turned and grabbed the sled from outside. And finally back in the only shelter to be found, he slammed the door shut against the wind outside. Tears ran from his bloodshot eyes, and he brushed them away to try and see.

"Liz!" he dropped to her side and rolled her, searching her face. Eyes closed, she didn't even acknowledge him. Her pale face shone in the light of his phone. "No!" On legs that could hardly support him now, he returned to the sled and pulled it apart to retrieve the blankets and large tarp.

Hurriedly laying the tarp on the ground, he folded it like a large sleeping bag, quickly lining it with half the blankets from the sled plus several pillows. The other half of the blankets he hurriedly stacked, ready to draw on top of them. Their pseudo sleeping bag complete, he picked her up for a third time, his back muscles cramping now, and screaming soundlessly in pain he dropped her on the tarp and blankets. She was as safe as he could get her.

Quickly scrambling down beside her, he lay down as close as he could and dragged the remaining blankets over them, completely covering them both, then finally pulled the tarp over the blankets, cocooning them inside. Covered completely, he pulled the blankets over their heads and huddled beside her, putting his arms around her.

"Don't you leave me… Don't you dare..." he whispered, begging her unresponsive form over and over, as he held her under the blankets, his body a mass of shuddering, cold pain. And unable to take it any longer, he couldn't resist as his body gave way and he joined her in unconsciousness.

###

Red was still taking his silent inventory in his mind, making his way through what he'd done before, during and after the meeting in Cologne in 2007. As his mind methodically went through it, the door to the room opened, letting in a figure silhouetted in the light from the hall. As the man walked toward the guard in the middle of the room, Red smiled that little knowing smile, watching their former comrade approach.

"Mr Young. Nice of you to come pay us a little visit," greeted Red, tilting his head to the side.

Young ignored him, facing the guard to talk to him. As the guard left the room, Young watched him leave and close the door before he turned to Red. Approaching the bars, he faced Red silently, standing there with his hands on his hips. Indecision played about his face, as Red looked at him.

"Something on your mind?" Red asked him, knowing precisely what was on the man's mind.

Young silently fished inside his pocket then walked toward Red and handed him a small paper sack as he now stood at the bars. "That's for Campbell. Now we're even. I'll give you ten minutes." And not even waiting for an answer Young clenched his jaw, turned and walked toward the exit door, completely unaware that Red was grinning knowingly behind his back.

He knew what Young had brought him, and looking down at the small paper bag in his hand, he opened it as he returned to Dembe. Sitting down beside the man, he looked at the bag contents as he emptied it on the floor. The bag contained several pieces of square gauze, a roll of wide gauze, surgical tape and a small tube of antibiotic cream.

"You see Dembe," he smiled, looking through the bars at his companion. "I told you I was working on it."

Dembe grinned at him, his white teeth contrasting sharply with his dark skin. "You always are, Raymond."

And while the guard was still distracted by Young outside, Dembe leaned on the bars to let Red access his wound, and with expert hands, Red applied the dressing before wrapping the wide gauze around his middle, finally giving Dembe some relief from the bleeding.

Red was clearing away the evidence, flushing the empty bag down the toilet when the guard came back in ten minutes later, none the wiser.

###

The wind blew relentlessly around the building they were sheltering in as snow swirled in the night air, whipped up in wind as the temperature plunged to well below zero. Hidden below their pile of blankets and the encompassing tarp, Ressler slowly regained his senses. The first thing he was aware of was not so much the cold, but the fact he felt buried alive.

_What the…where…?_

Opening his eyes didn't enlighten him one bit. It was pitch black, and as he slowly came round he realized he was clutching someone.  _Liz_. And with a jolt, he sucked in a painful breath as he remembered exactly where they were.

Releasing one arm from Liz, he struggled to find his phone, then get his glove off to access the touchscreen. Turning the light on, his eyes flared in pain and he slammed them shut against the sudden onslaught of light in their enclosed space. Gingerly opening them again, he shone the light on her face beside him. With his glove still off, he went to feel for her pulse at her neck, but then hesitated.  _If there was no pulse…_

"Liz…" he croaked, his voice hoarse as it fought free of his aching throat. "Liz…"

His fingers dropped to her neck, and closing his eyes he concentrated on finding her pulse under her cold skin.

He couldn't find it. "No!"

He held his fingers to her neck, moving them slightly. "No! Liz, no!" There was no pulse.

And with his heart hammering in his mouth, his eyes sprang open as he frantically shone the light on her. And suddenly he realized there WAS a pulse. He could see it in the light from the phone, beating steadily in her neck. His numb fingers had simply been unable to register it.

Tears of relief pricked his eyes as he watched that pulse beat in her neck, blurring it from his sight as tears pooled in his eyes. It was steady and certainly not as fast as it should be, but she was stable. Closing his eyes as his own heart continued hammering in his chest in relief, he took his hand from her neck and found her cheek. Patting her gently, he was suddenly taken back to waking her in the plane.

More aware of his surroundings now, he moved a little as the feeling in his legs made its presence felt with agonizing reality. While not toasty warm, laying under the blankets was cutting the chill significantly. Still patting her face, he leaned close to her, keeping the phone light on. "Come on…" he croaked, "Come on Liz…"

She wasn't waking up though. And re-positioning himself again, and trying in vain to convince himself she was better off resting, he held her against his chest, trying to generate as much body heat as he could. Turning his phone light off as he lay under the blankets holding her, he willed her to be okay. And in the darkness, trying not to think of the alternative to her being okay, he heard an echo in his mind.  _'It was.'_

_Don't make me face that terrifying prospect Liz… Don't…_

They were complicated. He was well aware of that. She shouldn't mean this much…he knew that. And yet…there was no turning back. No changing how he felt. And how she felt. She'd made her position clear with two little words.  _'It was.'_

And holding her close against him, wanting her to feel every ounce of warmth he could give her, he dropped his head and kissed her forehead. Fresh tears sprang to his eyes as he did so. She was the only person he'd kissed since…

_Audrey…_

And once he'd thought of her name, he saw Audrey on the street. Audrey bleeding. Audrey crying. Audrey saying his name as she died. _'Don…'_ But the one thing he now saw was Audrey smiling. She had smiled a little half smile right before she died in his arms. And he finally understood that while she hadn't wanted to leave him and hadn't wanted to die, in that final moment, she was okay with it and needed him to know. Needed him to understand that which she could no longer voice.

And as he held Liz he realized that while Audrey had been okay in that final moment, he was unable to lose another one in his arms. And clutching Liz to his chest, he kissed her forehead again, feeling her cold skin against his lips as his tears slid down his cheek and onto her.

There was no way he could rest right now. His body a mass of pain as his muscles slowly unlocked and thawed out, he lay beside her attempting to keep as still as he could to stave off the cramps that would inevitably come. And he began to talk softly to her, to whisper to her with his voice that was all but gone with the cold he had breathed in.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean for any of this to happen…" and as he said it, he told himself it was that he didn't mean to lose the matches. That if by some chance she did hear, that was his defense. But his heart told him he was referring to something else. He hadn't meant it to get so complicated. So confusing. He hesitated, waiting for her to answer him. Of course, she wasn't going to.

"It just…it just happened, Liz…" he told her, again veiling his words in double meaning.

"You deserve better though…" he told her in the dark.

And slowly, he opened up, whispering to her unconscious form. "Because…well, I'm not in a good place right now…" That was an understatement. He'd taken 7 pills today. He was a drug addict in recovery.

"And maybe you aren't either…with everything that's happened with you and …your ex…" He suddenly couldn't utter her ex-husband's name. And as he spoke, it occurred to him that he'd stopped hiding what he meant. But it no longer mattered.

"I just…I don't know Liz…right now, I need you as a friend… I think you maybe need me as a friend…" He stopped briefly, closing his eyes against fresh tears threatening to take over as he kissed her forehead again, before he started up again. "Because it's too soon…for you with…him. And for me with…her."

And he knew he was rambling. That none of it made sense. This was women stuff. Men didn't deal with this. But he was cold and in pain and needed to focus on her right now. Because as he lay in the dark, he didn't know if they were going to make it out of this alive. And if they were going to die, then he wasn't going to die with some things unsaid.

"But you know there is this…thing…between us. I know you do…you saw it first. Admitted it first."

' _It was.'_

"I am aware it's there too…I see it... feel it too, Liz…"

He stopped, resting his chin on her hair. "I just don't want you to get more hurt… and being around me, is likely to hurt you…" He closed his eyes at that. Being around him had got Audrey killed.

"But you are around me…as partners…every day…and I love that… I shouldn't, but I do…and I..." He kissed her forehead again, unable to hold the tears back now.

"It's just complicated, Liz…" he whispered to her.

And suddenly, his brain couldn't think about it anymore. He lay there, holding her, and was slowly drifting off to an exhausted sleep when she moved slightly in his arms.

"It's… not… not that… complicated, Ress…"

His heart leapt at the sound of her voice as his eyes sprang open.

He should have just pretended he hadn't heard her. Should have just pretended he had fallen asleep. It would have been FAR less complicated. But she was leaning on his chest and felt his heart lurch and raised her head to him.

And in the dark, taking his cue from Audrey who had needed to tell him how she felt as she died, he lowered his head, placed his hand on her chin and found her lips. Hesitating a bare second as he brushed them with his, she reached up to his neck and pulled him to her. And kissing her now, she responded, opening up to him as they tasted each other, seeking each other out in the dark. It was complicated. It was confusing. But in the dark, not knowing if they'd live or die, it was the one thing they needed from each other.


	12. Broken

Raymond Reddington sat on the uncomfortable cot in his cell with head down and eyes closed. His mind a million miles away and years ago, he was back in Cologne, Germany in a meeting at a restaurant. It was a simple deal. A purchase then subsequent merger of a trucking company that had one of the main supply routes through Germany. So simple that he barely paid it much attention. He'd won far larger contracts before and since then.

What then…his mind concentrated. If a larger trucking company took on a supply route… then it stands to reason that smaller companies may have fallen by the wayside. And if Anton had one of those companies, then perhaps that might explain this. If the man lost his business and his livelihood, perhaps the bombings of his own businesses had been Anton's way of setting things right.

But Red understood that none of that explained taking him prisoner. This was something else. This was something more… personal. He needed to talk to the man. As he opened his eyes, the room came back into focus around him. Dimmed lights in the room softly lit the lone guard sitting silently on the chair. Dembe was asleep on the cot in the cell beside him. Something he should likely be doing himself but he had other things on his mind. And not only what he'd done to piss off Anton.

Lizzie and Donald were out there.

And he didn't need to be a genius to know they were in trouble. Even from inside their cell room he could hear the wind buffeting the building. In the distance a window shutter thumped relentlessly on the walls outside. It would be well below zero and at life threatening levels if they were still trapped in whatever hole they'd fallen through to - if they were still alive. Their fates were currently unknown and that was a burden on his heart.

He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes again. There was nothing he could do from in here. But that didn't mean he wasn't working on things. Dembe had been exactly right on that.

###

Liz and Ressler lay together under the blankets, seeking warmth and much more from each other. Out of shared desperation at their situation and the need to feel close, they clung to each other in silent unity. And in the dark their bodies pressed into each other as he rolled slightly onto her, his knee dropping between hers. Finding his fingers in her hair, he gathered her into him feeling certain she'd feel his heart hammering in his chest.

As their lips opened and their tongues found each other she leaned up to meet him in confirmation that his initiated move had been welcomed. And in the dark, unable to see the other they simply felt. And breathed. And held on tight. And kissed their partner and best friend.

From a working standpoint it was wrong, they knew that. Yet it was also right and necessary at this moment as they explored each other for the first time.

And then as quickly as it had begun they drew in a breath as their lips slowly broke apart in unspoken agreement. His hand released her hair as hers dropped to his cheek. Their foreheads touched in the dark and with eyes closed they breathed close to each other. A mere incline of his head and he'd be on her lips again. But in silent understanding, it wasn't their intention that it lead any further.

And running his thumb lightly over her lips, feeling her tongue still reaching for him, he lingered a moment longer. Raising his head he kissed her forehead before rolling back off her now. As he rested his chin on her hair, he waited for her to break their surprisingly easy silence and was amazed when he spoke first. He didn't address the kiss. That didn't need discussion. They'd said it all in that briefest of moments.

"How much did you hear…?" he asked her with his voice croaking, wondering just how long she'd actually been awake listening to his … ramblings.

"Enough…" she told him, lifting her head toward him again in the dark.

"And you didn't say anything…?" he whispered, as it was more understandable than his hoarse croaks.

"I think that's the first time I've ever heard a man be honest with me…" she said softly. "I didn't want to stop you…" she told him, cupping his cheek now as she felt his 4 day growth beneath her hand.

"Well…in my defense, I didn't know you were listening…" he whispered, smiling into her hair.

"You don't need to defend yourself with me," she told him, patting his cheek. "You know that, right?"

He knew that. "Yes ma'am," he replied, recalling their earlier discussion and then heard her chuckle softly.

"You okay?" she asked him more seriously now.

"Yup. You?" he asked, still resting his chin on her hair.

"Yeah," she replied, moving her hand from his cheek and putting it under his jacket and around his waist now. "But my head hurts, and I'm so cold…"

His hand found the bump on her head and gently cradled it before he'd even realized he was doing it.

"Liz…"

"Yeah?"

How did one say 'thank you for being stuck out here and freezing to death with me, because really, I'd rather it be you dying with me than anyone else'? And knowing nothing would sound right, he decided it was better left unsaid.

"Nothing…"

She responded by adjusting her arm around him. She knew what he was struggling to say.

He held her silently and when she hadn't spoken for a few minutes he began to think she had drifted off to sleep. And intent on at least trying to get some rest tonight, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about how cold he was.

"Ress…?"

He opened his eyes at her voice. "Yeah?"

"You were wrong…"

"Wouldn't be the first time," he told her, smiling his half smile and wondering just what he'd been wrong about THIS time.

"I'm serious…" she said, buried in his chest, shivering.

"I know. Ignore the jerk here. Continue…" he told her quietly.

"I don't deserve better."

His breath caught in his throat. She'd heard almost all of what he'd said in his halting little speech, trying to justify how he felt and why it was wrong. He grimaced in the dark.

"Yes, you-"

"No," she interrupted, "You said we're not in a good place, and I agree with that part... I'm broken. You're broken. And yet I wouldn't change that, because we're the only ones who truly understand that in each other."

He listened to her words in the dark, and didn't reply as he digested what she'd said.

"And that's why…" she stopped, raising her head to him again, "that's why it's so easy to care about each other, even when our job demands we're not supposed to. Because we're the same..."

And moving his head a little, he rested his chin back on her hair again in the dark. She'd put it into words far better than he had.

###

Toward morning the door to the cell room opened, letting in three silhouetted figures. Young and two more of Anton's men approached the cells. The half-asleep guard also stood and joined them. Dembe rose as they approached and silently moved toward Red at the bars. Even from his adjoining cell he was ready to protect his boss if the need arose.

"Gentlemen. We will be moving you soon," Young said, looking squarely at Red.

"And I was just enjoying these lovely accommodations. Tell me, where will you be moving us too?" asked Red, standing at the bars.

Young regarded him a moment before speaking, briefly looking at Dembe and back to Red. "I don't know. We're just here to get you ready." And motioning to the two men with him, he raised his weapon on Red as the door to the cell opened. Behind him, the guard trained his weapon on Dembe.

Entering the cell, the two moved to cuff Red but he did not raise his hands for them. Still looking at the gun wielding man in front of him, he spoke to Young again.

"Where is Anton? I need to speak with him."

"You'll see him soon enough," Young told him, "but for now let's keep this civil and let these two cuff you..."

Red wasn't sure, but was almost convinced Young had been about to add 'please' to that demand. Tilting his head and smiling at the man, he dutifully held out his hands in front of him. As the two men cuffed him, he addressed Dembe beside him.

"Just do as they say, Dembe. It will be okay." As the two men led Red from the cell, he stood close to Young while they cuffed Dembe. "Choices, Mr Young," he said under his breath as Young's eyes flew to meet his.

"Whatever you're trying to do. Just quit," he told Red quietly as he looked directly at him.

Red simply smiled pleasantly in reply and would have slapped the man encouragingly on the shoulder, had his hands not been cuffed.

###

Unable to believe he'd fallen into an exhausted sleep for three hours, Ressler looked at the time on his phone - 5:47am - the time he'd normally be getting up and heading for the shower. And as much as he didn't want to venture out into the cold air, his bladder was insisting. Extricating himself from Liz, he dropped the blankets back down as she stirred but did not wake. His muscles protesting painfully as he climbed to his feet, he grimaced in the cold air before heading for the tiny back room with its bucket.

The wind had dropped as they'd slept. Venturing to the dirty window at the front of the building, he stood shivering with hands in pockets but was unable to make out a thing outside. The sun wouldn't be up for a little while yet and with nothing to see in the dark he turned his attention to the sled. Fully aware there were no other matches, he searched anyway under the light of his phone. Liz was certainly right about that stubborn streak in him. That stubborn, male bullshit, to be exact. And despite how cold he was and the pain radiating from his shoulders, he smiled at that.

But when he uncovered the First Aid kit his smile dropped immediately. She was right about that too.

He was broken.

"Shit…" he swore quietly. Opening the kit, the pills almost taunted him as they sat right on top of the contents. And gritting his teeth, a sheet of 8 was suddenly in his hand. Telling himself to just put them the hell down, he ignored his own advice. The pills were already in his pocket. It was just in case, he told himself. Just in case he needed to help Liz.

"You just keep telling yourself that…" he whispered, clenching his jaw as he now found what he needed to patch up his bleeding shoulder.

Applying a makeshift field dressing (that he knew Red would find appallingly sloppy), he managed to patch up his shoulder as best he could. Without getting undressed and only utilizing one stiff arm, it would have to suffice. And after he stowed the First Aid kit, he raised his head to the ceiling, closed his eyes and exhaled heavily.

The first hint of light was visible now as he peered back through the murky window. Below ground level in their pit, the sunlight had not yet reached the small building, keeping it in cold shadow. Leaning on the window as the light slowly grew outside he closed his eyes, feeling the cold glass against his skin.

And behind him, Liz stirred. As he heard her complain about the cold under the blankets, he left the window and lifted the tarp off her. As she sat up, shivering in the room as the blankets left her, he helped hoist her to her feet.

"Whoa…" she whispered, holding onto his arm. "My legs haven't woken up yet…"

It was more than that though. Her muscles had been locked up in the cold for too long. And as she unsteadily left his side to find their bucket as the light increased in the room, he was drawn back to the front window.

"Damn it…damn it…damn it…" he whispered, closing his eyes. They were alone out here. And they were running out of time. There had not been many times in his life he'd felt completely at a loss as to where to turn next. Decisions to be made usually presented themselves easily. And fully aware the continual cold was affecting his brain, he opened his eyes and viewed the bleak landscape outside as a reluctant idea began to take hold in his mind. But once he'd considered it, there was no going back. He knew what he had to do.

Coming back into the main room after using their pseudo restroom, her eyes viewed the scene outside the window. "What are we going to do?" she asked him, coming to slowly stand at his side.

She stood by him clutching two blankets around her shoulders as the first rays of the sun touched the snow. And as he looked sideways at her, the idea in his brain came fully to fruition. They only had one choice. "Well, I'm thankful we have shelter," he told her, his hoarse voice breaking often.

He turned to face her now. "But… we can't stay here indefinitely. And you're not going to be able to travel."

"I'll try…and I can sit in the sled some…" she told him, hating that she sounded so useless.

He licked his bottom lip as he looked at her, his eyes meeting hers. "I am not going to be able to drag the sled for long, and you can't walk far, Liz, so I need to go-"

She eyes widened as she looked up at him, realizing where he was going with this. "Don't you dare!"

He dropped his gaze, then looked back up at her. "I have to, Liz." And as he told her, he didn't like the thought of leaving her alone any more than she did. But it was now the only way.

"No! You can't go out there alone!" she told him, motioning outside the window.

"You won't make it out there, Liz." And in confirmation of that fact, she swayed and grabbed at the window ledge. "You can barely stand... And I can't drag you all that way. You'll…" he hesitated, then continued more gently, "You'll slow me down. I have to go out there and find us help."

"You won't make it out there much longer than I would have! Neither of us has eaten well in days! You're hurt and bleeding and not much better off than me," she told him, and as she lost her balance he grabbed her shoulders and lowered her to her knees.

"We're out of time, Liz. If I don't try, we could both die out-"

"And you could die out there on your own! What happens if you get in trouble? There is no one to back you up!" she cried, searching his eyes desperately to try and dissuade him.

"Look…I'm not saying it will be easy, Liz. I'm saying we have no choice."

She looked at him silently, seeing the set of his jaw and the resolute look in his eyes. He'd made up his mind. Sighing, she reluctantly had to admit that he was right. They were out of options.

"Then you had damn well better make it, do you hear me?" she told him, raising her chin a little before him.

"I'll make it. I'm just that stubborn," he told her, giving her his half smile. And kneeling with her as she grasped his jacket, he didn't know if he could. But he was damn well going to give it his best shot.

###

In a reversal of their entry to the cell blocks, Red and Dembe were being led back up the stairs to the roof where the helicopter was waiting. Feeling the air growing colder as they approached the small building at the top of the metal stairs, Red was more interested in the wind speed if they were about to take off in it. It had dropped though, of that he was certain. But as the door to the roof blew open in front of him after being snatched out of the hand of one of Anton's men, he revised his estimate a little. It was still blowing a fair clip.

"Anton, far be it from me to complain, but I must admit to a little apprehension at taking off in these wind speeds," he told his captor who had appeared in the open door above them.

"It's a bigger helicopter than what we arrived in. Or maybe you are just afraid?"

Stepping onto the roof, Red's concerns were allayed somewhat at the sight of the larger helicopter waiting. Not realizing he'd stopped walking until he felt the sharp point of Young's weapon in his back, he addressed the man evenly as he turned his head a little.

"Must you? I've spent a very uncomfortable night on an unforgiving cot, and you ramming that into my spine is about to really get my day off to a bad start."

Young looked at Red as if to say something, but instead removed the gun from Red's back. "Just get on board, okay?" he said quietly.

Obliging, Red continued to the chopper where he was pulled roughly on board by one of Anton's men. Sitting down hard in one of the seats, he was soon joined by Dembe at his side. Looking around the interior, his eyes landed on a familiar face.

Mr Campbell. How's the leg doing?"

Campbell hesitated, then looked to Red. "My name's not Campb-"

"I don't need to know what your name is. Campbell will suffice," Red told him. "Again, how's the leg doing?" he asked, looking at the fresh plaster cast on Campbell's leg.

"It's doing better, thanks…" Campbell told him, his eyes darting to Anton who was buckling himself into a seat nearby. Young sat two seats down from his boss, across from Dembe.

As Red and Dembe worked together to retrieve and clasp their respective seat belts while handcuffed, the rotors fired up above their heads.

"Where are you taking us? I believe I have a right to know that."

"You don't have any rights," Anton told him curtly.

As the helicopter rose into the air, Red faced Anton again. "Everyone has rights. Just what have I done to you to warrant this and negate such rights?"

"I told you."

"No, you gave me a year. And from that I gleaned it was to do with a meeting in Cologne, Germany. From there I ascertained it was to do with a business merger involving a trucking company," Red told the man, raising his voice above the rotors. "After that, things get a little muddy."

"Her name was Anita." Anton told him, leaning toward Red. "And thanks to your business venture, I lost her."

Red regarded the man, having suspected he'd lost someone in this. "If I caused the death of your… wife… then I am truly sorry. But if it was as a result of my business dealings, then I can assure you-"

"Do not assure me!" Anton raised his voice now, shouting across to Red.

Dembe moved an inch toward Red, his leg muscles tightening. Ready to pounce if need be.

The helicopter had made its ascent and turned north east, heading further away from the building. And further away from the quarry, Red noted. His thoughts briefly turned to Lizzie and Donald, before he returned his focus to the man in front of him.

"What can I do to make this right?" he asked Anton, trying to defuse the situation.

"There is no making this right! But I'll be done with you soon, once we're at the airport."

Red was watching Anton before him and saw something now. The man was not happy with having to take him to the airport. As if he were handing him off to someone. Acting under orders. Red had his answer now. Someone was pulling the strings. And that someone was apparently using Anton's single-minded vendetta to their benefit.

"Apparently this is an attempt to make this right for someone else though, correct?" asked Red. It was a simple question. But the change in tack threw Anton off his game completely.

"That is of no concern to you!" he yelled. And rising to his feet, he produced a hand gun from inside his coat and held it levelly on Red.

Red motioned to Dembe to be still as he felt the man tense even more beside him. Two seats down, Young clenched his teeth as he watched his boss face Red.

As Red looked at Anton calmly, the smile never left his features. "Well that may be. But I daresay the person who is about to collect my head will not be too impressed if the lights aren't still on."

Anton stepped closer to Red. "You are correct. As much as it pains me and I'd like nothing better than to wipe that smile off your face permanently, I cannot exact justice on your miserable existence," he told Red through clenched teeth.

"However, I don't have any such reservations regarding your companion. He is quite expendable." And taking the gun off Red he immediately aimed it at Dembe, zeroing it in on the man's forehead.

###

Climbing to his feet Ressler pulled Liz up with him before leading her back to the blankets. Rearranging them, she sat against the wall now with the tarp still around her and the blankets inside it.

"Are you taking the sled?" she asked and he shook his head. His best option was to travel light. He'd briefly considered lightening the load in it and taking it, but instead wrapped two blankets around him, then took one of the remaining large FBI jump suits and climbed into it, full dressed under it. It was bulky, but it would enable him to carry blankets, and had additional pockets that he could stow the few things he'd need. Including half the remaining pain pills.

She watched him from under the blankets as she sat on the floor, and managed to smile at him. She didn't want him to leave. But he'd made up his mind so she was going to at least try and make light of it. "You look like you're going out for a spacewalk."

"Feels like it too…" he admitted, working on his face coverings now. They had plenty to spare, and he covered his face with two sets of face coverings, before tossing her four strips to do the same with.

"Houston, we have a problem…" she said quietly, thinking of the worst case scenarios out there for him.

He smiled. "How about 'Houston, the Eagle has landed.' I think that's a better outcome," he told her watching as she leaned her head back against the wall and managed to roll her eyes at him.

"So I'll head south and follow the power lines and stick to the road as best I can. There won't be any traffic in two feet of snow, but there has to be a house or something out there before I reach that town," he told her, trying to make it sound like it was a piece of cake. Both of them saw right through that though.

"I've put your cup over there and you'll need to keep filling it with snow and holding it against you to melt so you have water. Make sure you do that, Liz," he told her.

She nodded, looking briefly at the cup near her. "I will…and you too…"

He patted one of his pockets where he'd stowed his cup. He was ready. And knowing he needed to use as much daylight as he could, there was no sense prolonging it. She stood up unsteadily in the blankets and came to stand by him. "I'm sorry…" she told him, frustrated at herself that he was right that she wasn't strong enough to travel any longer. And sorry that he had to face it all alone out there.

"Don't be," he shook his head at her, seeing the tears pooling in her eyes.

She nodded, and slipped her arms around him now and hugged him to her. And leaning down he touched the top of her head through his face coverings. As she pulled back from him, he held her at arm's length, and looked into her eyes.

"Don't cry. You'll freeze your eyeballs," he told her, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.

She smiled at his attempt at humor, appreciating it. "Right," she told him, wiping the tears away.

He nodded to her, then released her and went to the door. "I don't know how long it will take. But hang in there, Liz," he told her. Holding her eyes a moment longer, he hesitated longer than he had intended as their eyes locked. And before he could change his mind, he opened the door and slipped outside into the frigid morning air.

And as he walked past the dirty window she watched him leave as he made his way around the building. "You had better make it, my broken Boy Scout…" she whispered out loud in the room. And resisting the urge to run after him and beg him not to go out there alone, she unsteadily made her way back to the blankets and sunk down into them, dissolving in tears.

###

"Anton, is this really the wisest of choices for you to make?" Red asked the man as he held the gun to Dembe's forehead.

"I don't need him," Anton told Red, screwing up his nose in distaste as he looked at Dembe.

"But the person you're taking us to might," said Red calmly. "And while I daresay he might be okay with you only delivering one person instead of two, do you really want to take that risk?"

"He's right, boss. Besides, do we really want to go firing weapons inside a helicopter?" Young's voice from behind Anton surprised all of them.

Red quickly looked at Young as he spoke. And sitting back further in the seat he smiled imperceptibly. Déjà vu reared its head at a similar conversation in their ill-fated jet. The man was a quick study.

Anton turned his head slightly to his wayward employee. "You're out of line." And as Young shrugged and sat back down, Anton suddenly sighed and took the gun off Dembe.

He looked at Red. "Next time we may not be in mid-air."

And as Anton looked back to find his seat, Red looked straight at Young and gave him a nod. From across the aisle, Young looked silently at Dembe then to Red, and then gave a tiny return nod of his own.

And Red smiled then. Yes, things were coming along nicely.

###

As the sun rose higher in the sky, it shone through the overcast sky just as Ressler reached the exit slope of the quarry. Bypassing the remaining sled, he looked up at the slope then began to walk up the incline. As he rose slowly above the quarry, plowing through the deep snow, his eyes landed on the building. There was no point second guessing his decision now.

"Just keep going…" he told himself, unable to drag his eyes off the dilapidated wooden structure. Now level with the conveyor belts as he slowly made his way upward, his attention was now drawn to the hole they'd fallen through. Shuddering at the thought, he dragged his eyes off it, landing back on the building. The building that Liz was in.

As he walked, his head slowly came level with the ground above the quarry. And a few steps later he reached the top of the snowy exit slope and stepped onto the ground above. He was out the quarry. And as if to celebrate that fact, the sun broke through the clouds, bathing the quarry in bright sunlight. As the snow lit up beneath him and the conveyor belts gleamed in the sudden brightness, he saw movement by the building.

It was Liz. Wrapped in her blankets, she had made her way around the building.

"Get back in the…warm…" he whispered to himself, knowing it wasn't warm in the building, but at least she had the blankets.

That's what the practical side of him said. But the other side of him smiled under his face coverings and raised his left arm from the elbow, meeting her wave. He heard her voice carrying up to him now.

"I'll be waiting for you!"

And unable to shout that far with his wrecked voice, he simply nodded enough so that she'd see. And with a final wave, she turned and left his sight as she went toward the front of the building, leaning against it for support.

He turned and made his way toward the small row of power lines that led back up to the main road, still hearing her voice in his head. He pondered what she'd said.

And as he trudged through the snow, head down, he realized he wasn't the only one who veiled their words in double meanings.


	13. Contact

Ressler hadn't looked back since leaving the edge of the quarry. But now standing on the main road and leaning against a power pole, he followed the line of his footprints as they marched down the slope in the snow. From his vantage point, he could no longer see inside the pit; the still tops of the conveyor belts the only sign that there was more below. And completely hidden from view, the wooden building that housed his partner who couldn't travel…  _So move your butt and get walking._

"Let's roll…" he said out loud, almost startled at the sound of his croaking voice breaking the silence. And without fanfare he began his trek, one foot in front of the other down the hidden road below his feet. As he walked, he scooped up snow into a sturdy plastic bag before returning it to his inside front pocket. It wasn't much, but it would give him a few mouthfuls of water once it melted.

When he reached the disturbed snow in the road marking the point where the six of them had gathered on their way to the quarry, he stopped briefly. And for the first time he allowed the thoughts of what had happened to come forth. He'd held it in check until now, refusing to dwell on Reddington being taken at gunpoint by Young. He grimaced under his face mask as he shook his head.  _Son of a bitch…_

In frustration he kicked at the snow, and then immediately regretted it when pain flared in his shoulders, but it had let off some steam.  _I never should have let my guard down around him._  But common sense told him there was no point berating himself over it now though. Exhaling heavily, he gave a glance down the slope toward the hidden quarry behind the trees - and to the small wooden building where his partner was.  _The partner I kissed last night…_

He turned back to the road and continued his measured steps through the deep snow. While they hadn't discussed it, he couldn't help but think about it now as every step he took in the snow took him further away from her. He'd only thought it had been complicated before. And as he was searching for what it was now, it finally occurred to him that it was now clearer than it had been before. A lot of things were now out in the open and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Different - and still complicated - but not bad.

"I'll make it, Liz." And taking one last look toward the quarry where she sat in the small building, he then turned his attention to the road ahead of him and didn't look back.

The crunch under his boots became almost comforting with each step he took. It marked his progress, albeit slow but it was progress nonetheless. Deer tracks crossed his path at intervals and around the base of trees were the telltale signs of rabbits. But of the animals themselves, he saw no sign in the morning light. There was life out there but they were apparently watching him from afar right now.

As he walked on the sun broke through, chasing the clouds away and for the first time in days he saw blue sky. It wasn't warm by any means but that blue sky cheered him as he walked steadily onward through the white landscape, heading down the silent, abandoned road.

###

As Red sat looking out the window of the helicopter his thoughts once again turned to Donald and Lizzie. After a minute, he looked toward Anton.

"Aren't you the least bit curious?" he asked, being deliberately vague.

Anton looked at him silently. But then unable to resist, he asked, "about what?"

"About the FBI agent you shot at the quarry, and his partner," clarified Red.

"He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happens."

Red tilted his head, squinting his eyes a little as he addressed their captor. "Just like those many innocent victims caught in your bomb blasts, no doubt?"

Anton regarded him coolly. "Exactly."

Red shook his head as he regarded Anton, liking the man less and less the more he had to deal with him. Beside him, Dembe spoke quietly.

"Agent Ressler is resourceful Raymond. I think he and Agent Keen will be okay."

"I hope you are correct, my friend."

And across from them, Campbell said, "Me too…" then immediately looked surprised that he'd said that out loud as Anton glared at him.

###

Liz was struggling to stay awake. Her head pounding as she sat against the back wall of the room wrapped in the blankets, she closed her eyes. And suddenly afraid that if she fell asleep she might not wake up, she forced herself to stand up. Swaying in the room as she clutched a blanket around her she made her way slowly to the window.

The sun was shining brightly, crystallizing the snow outside in what should have looked beautiful to her. Instead all it did was hurt her eyes in the brightness. Closing them, she mimicked her partner's position at the window not two hours before. Leaning her forehead against the glass she closed her eyes and thought about him out there alone. She knew he had to go. Common sense told her he was right. But that didn't make it any easier waiting here alone and not knowing when - if - he would come back.

And when the cold glass made her draw her forehead from it, she slowly made her way back to the pile of blankets and eased herself down among them. And as she covered herself in the half dozen or so blankets, she realized belatedly that her partner had left her most of them and only taken two for himself.

"Stubborn… So stubborn…" she said quietly.

Carefully leaning her aching head on a pillow behind her head, she touched her lips with her thumb, remembering.

"And so honest…" she whispered to the empty room.

"You'd better make it Ress…"

###

As the sun rose steadily and noon came and went, Ressler was still walking on freezing cold legs, but wasn't doing so good now. Slipping every few steps and dropping to his knees on occasion, he knew he needed to stop soon. "Not yet…come on…" he panted, forcing himself to his shaky feet again.

The cold wasn't the only problem. While the break in the clouds and the blue sky had initially been welcome, now the sunlit glare coming off the white snow was dazzling. Sliding his FBI cap down on his head and squinting, his eyes watered continually in the glare.

He closed his eyes for half a minute or so, before quickly opening them to make sure he was still on track. And in that fashion, stumbling and trying to shield his eyes, he continued for another half hour. But by 1pm he desperately needed a break - from the walking and from the sun. Spotting a large pine tree up ahead to the left of the road he stalked resolutely toward it. As he did so, he scooped more snow into his plastic bag and pocketed it again, wanting it to be melted before he reached the tree.

On reaching the tree he quickly held the branches aside and scrambled under it, immediately feeling intense relief at being in the relative darkness. He lay on the pine needles, panting for breath with eyes closed. As his breathing settled, he struggled to sit up before scooting over to the trunk. Leaning against it with shoulders that were now hollering in pain, he managed to retrieve his cup. Pouring the melted snow into it, he drank, letting the cold water soothe his sore throat.

But if he was to continue, he knew what he needed. It was why he'd brought them along. And carefully placing the cup on the pine needle covered ground, he reached into his right pocket for the pain pills. He tried not to think about it too much. They were a means to an end. Without them, he would keep slowing down. With them he stood a much better chance of keeping going and reaching the town sooner. And pushing two pills out of the foil packet, he tossed them in his mouth then washed them down with the melted snow.

Exhaling, he leaned against the tree trunk, and closed his eyes.  _It's to help Liz…it will help Liz…_ While he knew that, it didn't make him feel any better at taking them, knowing they were screwing up his system again.  _Damn it…_

Reluctantly admitting he felt better within minutes though, he turned his attention to how to cover his eyes more against the sunlight. Searching his pockets produced the small knife he'd stowed that morning and removing one of the face covers, he cut two small slits in it. Placing it back on his head and covering his eyes now, he couldn't see a thing under the tree in the dark. Rising to his knees he moved toward the opening of the tree and peered out into the bright sunlight. And through the two slits he could see enough, yet his eyes were basically covered completely. Nodding with satisfaction, he gathered up his cup and the knife and made sure he had his pills. And leaving the darkness under the tree, he emerged into the sunlight and made his way back to the road.

###

As the helicopter started its descent toward the small airport below, Red once again took stock of what was below him. It was a habit that had served him well in the Navy and was ingrained in him now. Know your bearings. Know your heading. Several small jets were parked at hangars below him as the helicopter headed toward a hangar sitting apart from the main row. Landing with a soft jolt, the rotors above them changed pitch and slowed.

"Well, here we are," he said to Anton, smiling.

"Do you ever stop smiling, Reddington?" Anton shot back at him, leaving his seat. As he did so he looked to his employee and Young also stood, holding the gun on Red once again.

Red simply looked at Young, tipped his head to the side and dutifully climbed out of the chopper into the morning sun. There was still snow on the ground, but only an inch or two here. As Dembe dropped down beside him, he silently surveyed the scene, before falling into place behind Red as they were led into the hangar.

"Are you going to enlighten us as to where we are heading, or is that still a state secret?" Red asked Anton again.

Anton ignored him, walking ahead of them to a Lear jet a little larger than Red's own. "Nice. Very nice. Though I can't say after our recent experiences in a jet I'm too thrilled to be climbing aboard one so soon," he said and looked back at Young behind him, "isn't that right, my friend?"

Young looked silently at him then up at the jet. But the licking of his bottom lip gave him away. Red nodded, satisfied.

Finding their seats on the plane, Red settled in as Campbell made his way on board, hobbling on crutches and favoring his newly cast leg.

"Looking good there, my friend. I told you we'd get you on your feet again soon," Red called over to him, smiling. Campbell nodded in embarrassment before finding a seat and plopping down heavily into it, stowing his crutches under the window.

As the hangar doors opened and the plane began to taxi to the runway, Anton turned to Red, a smug smile plastered on his face.

"In answer to your question, we are going to Germany. To Cologne - where this all began. And where it will all end for you," he said, then walked to the front of the plane and sat down.

"Well, how wonderfully melodramatic," said Red under his breath, before settling back in his seat as the plane roared down the runway. And as the plane gained altitude, Red peered out the window at the snow filled landscape below them. Somewhere on that southern horizon lay the quarry and its two occupants. And once again, Red silently wished them well.

###

"Damn!" Ressler swore as he slipped in the snow for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour. Barely able to feel his legs, it was getting increasingly harder to keep walking. But he wasn't giving up. And resolutely placing one numb leg in front of the other, he continued slogging through the snow. The only good news was that the sun had now passed its peak and was dropping on the western horizon. As the glare diminished, he still kept his slit blanket over his eyes for some measure of warmth.

Up ahead a row of power lines ran across his path from east to west, marking an intersection of roads in the snow. As he approached, slipping again and hauling himself back up several times, he felt the irony of it and tried not to think about cheesy anecdotes regarding being at a crossroads in his life. And as he finally stood in the centre of the crossroads, he pulled his blanket from his eyes a little and turned slowly, searching every direction. Desperately hoping to see something - anything. But there was nothing. Not a building in sight.

And the longer he looked the more the desperation rose in him. He was completely alone. And this time he deliberately dropped to his knees as he tried to quell the rising panic.

"Keep it together…don't…" he told himself, gulping for air.  _There's no one out here! I can't get us help!_ His hand was in his right pocket before he even realized and already breaking open the foil to retrieve one pill. Tossing it in his mouth, he grimaced and dropped his head to his chest as he crouched down in the snow.  _Liz! There's nothing out here!_

Closing his eyes against the late afternoon sun, he held himself with arms wrapped around him as he kneeled. And he allowed himself to sink back into the memory of the night before. Of holding her…tasting her… feeling her… and needing to share their fear together and find comfort in the only way they could. And he saw her in his mind…felt her on his lips again…smelled her close to him…felt her breath against him. And with her filling his senses, his breathing slowed and heart rate dropped as he remembered.

And as his breathing returned to normal, he allowed the image of her to fade away and slowly opened his eyes. Sniffing in the cold air, and grimacing he looked up at the sky.

"I can do this. I can damn well do this. I promise you, Liz," he croaked hoarsely.

Pulling his blanket back up to cover his eyes, he could still see sufficiently in the afternoon light through the small slits. The sun would be setting soon though and he would need to seek shelter. But not yet. He was going to push on as long as he could.

"Let's roll…" he told himself again, before climbing to his feet and continuing on his way, leaving the intersection behind him.

###

Liz wasn't feeling good at all. And watching the light fading as the sun set wasn't helping matters. She had held out hope all day that somehow Ressler would return with help while it was still light. He hadn't though and now the thought of a night alone in this small building in the middle of nowhere was not something she was looking forward to. In fact, the thought scared the hell out of her. And while normally not afraid on her own, she attributed her current level of apprehension to the cold, the hunger and the pain in her head.

It hurt her head too much to lie down, as she'd found out the hard way. Re-positioning herself she now sat again, having wrapped herself with difficulty in the tarp and blankets. And just as she'd finally got somewhat comfortable and settled she realized she needed to go to the bathroom.

"Seriously woman? When did you develop a bladder the size of a grape?" And hauling herself up with difficulty, dropping all of the blankets except for one to the floor around her, she made her way unsteadily to the bucket in the small back room.

Having hurriedly redressed in the back room, she leaned down to retrieve the blanket off the floor as pain flared in her head. Reaching out to clutch the wall her hand flailed in mid air as she misjudged in the growing darkness. And as a wave of dizziness passed over her she fell forward. Trying in vain to grab the wall for support, she instead hit it hard with her head as she fell. Crying out at the sudden increase in pain she slipped to the floor, clutching her head in her hands as the room swam around her.

"No… no…" she panted, unable to regain her feet. And as the room spun around her she closed her eyes and felt her body sinking into blackness as she lost consciousness.

###

As the sun began to set, Ressler stubbornly trudged southward through the snow. The pain pill he'd taken at the crossroads was helping somewhat, but his muscles were still locked up with the cold. As dusk fell he searched the horizon in front of him continually for any sign of the lights he'd seen. But without clouds to reflect off, the sky remained frustratingly absent of lights in that direction. Having an internal argument with himself now, he was questioning if he'd even seen lights. But of course he had, he knew that. But maybe it was one of the atmospheric things where you see things that are in fact 50 miles away and not 15 or so, he wondered. His brain running rampant, he kept slogging through the snow putting one foot steadily in front of the other.

He stopped suddenly, hearing something. The sound of coyotes yipping in the distance filled the air in the first sign of life he'd heard all day. Standing in the snow, he found himself smiling under his face covers. And as the coyotes began to howl he moved off again, listening to them as they began their nightly hunt. They wouldn't bother him, being far more afraid of him as he walked through their territory.

As the moon rose on the eastern horizon he was buoyed somewhat by the fact he now had a little more light to see by in the darkness. The power lines gleamed in the moonlight, the cables softly swaying above him. And still slipping and stumbling in the snow, he resolutely headed south, never faltering from his path as he followed the power lines that marched off into the distance in front of him.

He heard the coyotes again and smiled anew. As a kid he'd been afraid of them until he learned more about them. Yes, they were the poor relation to the splendid wolves, but nevertheless he had developed a sense of familiarity with them every time he'd heard them in the years since. And as he listened to them yipping and howling, he stopped dead in his tracks.

A dog was barking in the distance, answering the coyotes in the night.

His heart leapt. Tearing off his cap and face covers to uncover his ears, he listened and zeroed in on the direction. It was in front of him and off to his right. Quickly covering his face and throwing his cap on again, he left the roadway and made a beeline for where he'd heard the dog, picking up the pace now. Struggling on his numb legs, he was no longer able to run through the snow but managed a little faster than he had been.

The dog barked at intervals. Picturing a household with the owner yelling out the back door for the dog to shut up, he slogged on through the snow, scrambling to his feet every time he fell.

"Come on…come on," he panted, his voice barely a whisper. He hadn't heard the dog in a few minutes but stayed on his new course through the snow. Heading away from the road and through thicker trees now, the ground began to slope downward in a slight incline.

The dog barked again and even through his head coverings over his ears, it was definitely closer now. "Move faster!" he panted as he slipped yet again in the wet snow and struggled to his feet. The slope in the ground was increasing, causing him to pitch forward with every staggering step. There were more trees up ahead, their snow filled branches looming out of the dark in the moonlight.

As he rounded the trees, struggling to lift legs that were dead weights in the snow, he heard the dog again. It was close. Very close. And his heart leapt to his throat at what he heard next. A man's voice, just as he'd imagined, yelling at the dog to be quiet.

"I'm out here…please…" he whispered, struggling onward toward the man and the dog.

The ground continued to slope downward and as he pitched forward onto his face for what felt like the thousandth time, he rolled a little on the slope. There was no longer any pain in his shoulders. They were so numb now that he could hardly feel them. And listening, needing to hear the dog or the man again, he fell and this time rolled even further. If this kept up, he realized, he would be rolling all the way down the hill.

"Come on…" he whispered, panting as the cold night air filled his lungs, despite two layers of blankets over his face.

A sound rang out in the night air, startling him. A rifle shot. He held his breath. Had the man shot the dog?!

As the dog barked again, he exhaled heavily. The dog was fine. Falling forward again, he let himself roll down the hill now, knowing it was the fastest way down. Snow flew around him as he rolled and slid dizzily down the slope, coming to a stop some distance from where he'd started. As he lay in the snow looking up at the moon another sharp retort from the rifle rang out.

"What the…?"

Rolling onto his knees, he hauled himself up and staggered forward on the more level ground. Trees were in front of him blocking his view. But that shot had been very close. The thought that he might walk out on someone with a rifle and get shot himself suddenly occurred to him. But he staggered on anyway, too exhausted to even contend with that thought a second longer.

As he came around another outcropping of trees he stopped at what was before him. Hunching forward, his breath came in sharp, painful pants as he took in the sight. A building rose out of the snowy landscape about 100 feet in front of him. It appeared to be a barn, and while there were no lights inside there was a flashlight moving around in the dark. And in that flashlight he saw the silhouette of a large dog bouncing around the man excitedly, its tail going crazy.

He had found someone. Unbelievably, out here in the middle of nowhere the coyotes and then the dog had led him here.

"Hey!" he tried to call, but barely a whisper came. Grimacing as he moved forward in the dark, struggling to breathe he fell forward onto his knees again and in exhaustion, slid sideways and fell down in the snow. Trying to rise he lifted his head off the snow but fell back. Try as he might, he couldn't climb to his feet and fell down again, lying on his back as the moon shone above him.

_No! No!_

He needed to get the man's attention but he couldn't raise his voice.  _The phone!_  Struggling to pull the frozen zipper down on his jumpsuit, he managed to retrieve the phone from his inner pocket. And turning it on, seeing 3% battery life remaining he turned on the flash light and managed to briefly hold it up to aim it toward the man.

The light pierced the darkness like a tiny white beacon in the night. As he moved the light from side to side a little he suddenly heard the man's voice carry to him on the night air.

"What the dickens is that?"

And as he heard the man crunching through the snow, the sound of the dog running and panting grew closer and suddenly he was being sniffed and nuzzled by the large excited animal. He'd never been happier to see a dog in his entire life. And unsure if he was laughing or crying under his face covers as he lay in the snow he managed to reach up to the grey and white dog and pet it.

"Scooter! Leave him be!"

The dog left his side and illuminated in the light from his phone, an elderly man leaned down to him. "What the heck are you doing out here, son?" he asked in amazement, placing his hand on Ressler's chest.

"Plane…plane crash…" Ressler whispered hoarsely. The man leaned down, trying to hear what he was saying.

"Plane… crash…" he croaked again, and this time the man heard.

"My word… Wait right here, son. I'm going to get my jet ski," he said, then motioned to the dog, "Scooter, stay with him."

As the man left his side the dog stayed. And as if to tell him everything would be okay in that understanding way that dogs possess, he dropped down in the snow and laid his head on Ressler's chest.

###

As Liz slowly opened her eyes, she had no clue where she was. All she was aware of was that it was dark and cold and her head hurt. Sprawled uncomfortably against the wall, she attempted to sit up by sliding herself up into a sitting position. Gasping as her head throbbed at the movement, she stopped to let the throbbing subside before sliding up a little more on the wall. And after another attempt, she was finally sitting on the floor in the dark.

Finding her phone she shone it in the dark then slammed her eyes shut as the light pierced the darkness. But she'd seen enough to remember where she was. As soon as she briefly spied the bucket in the light, she remembered.

"Oh my gosh…" she gasped, hugging herself , "I'm so freakin' cold…"

Her blankets were so near, yet so far. Just a few inches away on the other side of the wall from her but the prospect of getting up and making her way back to the main room felt impossible right now. But there was one blanket on the floor near her foot. Her leg threatening to cramp as she stretched her toes out, she managed to grasp the corner of the blanket with her boot. Dragging it now, inch by inch, it came close enough for her to grab it with outstretched fingers. And finally holding it in her fingers she threw it over herself, covering her head to trap as much body warmth as she could.

And under the blanket in the dark her mind returned to the previous night. Under the blankets with her partner. His touch. His mouth on hers, and the closeness of him against her. And in the dark she ached to feel him that close again. Closing her eyes, holding onto the memory of him as long as she could, she whispered in the dark.

"Ress…please…I don't know how much longer I can make it…"

###

As Ressler lay in the snow he laid his gloved hand on the dog's head. In the distance he heard the snow mobile fire up and as the man approached on it, he struggled to sit up. His shoulders weren't cooperating any more though. Rolling to his side, using his head for leverage, he struggled to his knees as the man parked beside him.

"I got you, son. I got you," said the man as he leaned down and grasped Ressler and helped haul him to his unsteady feet.

"You good?" he asked Ressler while propping him up.

"Yeah," he croaked, grateful to the elderly man.

"I'm Floyd Chase. I live just over yonder with the missus. I was out here on nasty business, I'm afraid. Some of my cattle were down in the snow. Kinder to put them out of their misery," he told Ressler, then continued, "Oh, don't worry, I won't put you out of your misery," and he chuckled at his own joke. "What's your name, son?"

And not sure he could trust his voice anymore; Ressler reached into his inner pocket and pulled out his FBI credentials. As Floyd shone his flashlight on the wallet, he gasped, then shone the light up at Ressler's face. Of course, he couldn't see anything under Ressler's face coverings, just his eyes that were now closed against the light.

"You're that fella! That fella on the news they're all looking for on that FBI plane! What in the world are you doing all the way up here?!"

Ressler nodded and leaned close to Floyd's ear so he could hear him. "Flew off course. My partner is still out there. I need to get help and get back to her," he whispered as loudly as he could.

Floyd looked up at him in amazement. "She's out there in this?!"

"Chesterfields… Quarry," Ressler croaked then took a step toward the snow mobile to get the old guy moving.

"That's 8 miles from here! You walked 8 miles in this snow?!"

And as Ressler nodded and staggered to the snow mobile, Floyd got the message loud and clear. "Get on the back seat here, I'll radio ahead when we get closer in!"

Ressler climbed onto the back seat of the snow mobile, swaying as he did so. Floyd quickly got on in front of him. And as he leaned on the old man to stay in place, Floyd fired up the ski and moved off with Scooter bounding excitedly beside them.

As Ressler leaned on the old man, he watched Scooter flying through the snow effortlessly beside them. The dog was loving this. And the sight of the big Malamute husky happily bounding through the snow brought tears to his eyes with the sheer beauty of it.

_I'm coming back Liz….I made it…_


	14. Cologne

Ressler propped himself up on the old man in front of him, concerned he'd fall off the snow mobile at any second. It was almost surreal, moving through the trees this fast after walking through them at a comparative snails pace. His fate was now in the hands of this elderly gentleman and the unseen police chief he was talking to on the two way radio. Floyd held the mic in one hand as he steered the snow mobile with the other.

"Charlie, I'm tellin' ya, it's that FBI man from that missing plane!" he yelled over the snow mobile engine.

"Are you sure Floyd? They're looking for that plane down near DC! Let me speak to him!"

"They went way off course! And he's lost his voice so you're gonna have to get out here pronto and see for yourself!" yelled Floyd.

"The roads are still impassable so I'll get the chopper in the air! We'll be there in thirty!"

Floyd lifted the mic again. "And bring EMT! This fella is in bad shape, and his partner is still out in this!"

"Already on it!" replied the police chief, ending the conversation.

With his chin on the old man's shoulder while his forearms hugged the man's waist, Ressler kept his eyes on Scooter bounding through the snow ahead of them. The dog had apparently taken it upon himself to escort them through the moonlit trees and was loving every minute of it. Lights became visible as they rounded a large group of pine trees, revealing Floyd's home as Scooter barked to announce their arrival. The two story farmhouse was large, with a look of comfort and homeliness. It spoke of family. Of children raised and sent off to college and of future generations returning in their grandchildren. It was instantly welcoming.

And at the sight of the two story farmhouse, a memory came to Ressler's mind. _Goodnight, John Boy…_ It had only been a couple of nights ago, yet felt forever ago in this cold, white land.

Floyd pulled up to the front steps of the home before jumping off the ski in a manner that belied his years. And as the position in front of him was vacated, Ressler lurched forward but was stopped from falling flat on his face by the arm that Floyd threw in front of him.

"Come on, son, let's get you out of this cold," he said, as Scooter wagged his tail and sniffed around Ressler's legs.

Accepting the old man's help again, Ressler's arm was around Floyd's shoulders as he stumbled his way up the front steps of the farmhouse. They entered the house and for the first time in two days, warm air infiltrated his lungs. The home was as comfortable on the inside as the exterior had indicated. Family pictures lined the hallway as Floyd led Ressler to the living room. And as he fell into the recliner that Floyd dropped him into, a woman came from the kitchen. But Ressler barely saw her. His mind was 8 miles away and on his partner.

_We'll be there soon Liz…hang in there…_

###

Five hours into the flight, the jet carrying Red, Dembe and their captors flew over the North Atlantic at a cruising altitude of 45,000 feet. The monotony of the ocean and clouds below soon drew Red's attention from the window and back to the interior of the cabin. Dembe turned to him from across the aisle, regarding his boss silently. Red nodded to him, before climbing to his feet.

"Where do you think you're going?" Anton asked him from the front of the jet.

"To the little boy's room. Do you mind? Or would like to accompany me? Though I daresay I can find everything and manage all by myself."

"We'll be in Cologne in an hour. You can't hold it?"

"Aaahh, yes, where I'll be handed off to the mysterious buyer in a meat market trade. Well, as much as I'd like to hold my urinary system in check, it might not be pretty if I attempted that. My age, you know," replied Red, standing in the aisle with hands cuffed in front of him.

"Fine," replied Anton, motioning to Young to go stand guard at the door.

Red made his way to the rear bathroom then stood by the door awaiting the arrival of his guard. Young left his seat in the mid section of the jet, his eyes meeting Dembe's as he passed by before he averted them. As he reached the rear of the plane he opened the tiny bathroom door for Red, and then undid one cuff.

"Thank you," said Red and stepped into the compact, steel bathroom.

"Make it quick," said Young and started to close the door.

Red held out his hand to stop the door closing all the way, then leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice, "I'm going to ask you to do something, but it's not for me. If you have a shred of decency in your being, find a way to call FBI Assistant Director Harold Cooper at the Washington Field Office, and give him the location of the two agents at the quarry. Do not let them die out there." And without waiting for a reply, Red closed the door to the bathroom, leaving Young standing alone at the stainless steel door.

Exiting the bathroom a few minutes later, Red allowed Young to recuff him before he made his way back to his seat. He didn't speak to him this time. He had delivered the required message to the man. Now it was up to Young to decide what he did with that information.

Young sat across from Campbell, dropping into the seat then slumping back in it. Campbell tilted his head, squinting his eyes a little.

"What happened to you?" he asked his partner in crime.

Young clenched his teeth. "Nothing. I'm just not happy being in another plane so soon after…you know."

"Yeah, I hear you on that," agreed Campbell, raising his head a little to look out the window, "though there is no snow down there if we went down again…"

Young stared at him. "Oh, that makes me feel so much better."

At the rear of the plane, Red smiled at Young's comment. To his left, Dembe rose to his feet.

Anton spoke up from the front, "Let me guess, the little boy's room too?" he called out to them, climbing from his seat. Red leaned forward, his eyes on Anton as he drew nearer.

As Dembe nodded and turned toward the bathroom, Anton was right behind him. "Not so fast. Turn around. Hands in the air," he told Dembe.

Dembe turned to face Anton, his cuffed hands held high. And with his hands in the air, his shirt rose, exposing the bandage around his middle. Anton's hands flew to Dembe's shirt and grabbed it, pushing it up and out of the way. Gritting his teeth, he tore the dressing off Dembe, causing fresh blood to seep from the wound. "Who gave you this?! Who did this?"

Red tilted his head a little, watching the change come over Anton. "Why is this such a problem to you? My man needed medical assistance and he received it."

Anton whirled on Red. "Because I said no!"

Red took an educated guess. "Am I to assume by your actions that Anita did not receive medical help, and that contributed to her death?" he asked Anton.

Anton began to tremble as the color in his face increased. "She lay there and no one came to help her! No one!"

"I fail to see what I-"

"She was on the bridge! And one of your trucks, on its new route was on that bridge. It was too big a truck to be on that small bridge! Your truck hit her and never even stopped. She lay in the grass and no one helped her! NO ONE!" Anton screamed at him, shaking hard.

Red stood in front of Anton, taking in what he was saying, nodding his head a little. He had no recollection of a hit and run involving one of his trucks. But he didn't doubt it had occurred.

"And for that I am truly sorry. But this," he held up his cuffed hands, "this doesn't make it right. Nothing can make that right."

"Oh, I can make some of it right," he said, and raised the gun to Dembe, "and this time you won't stop me."

"But I will," said Young from behind his boss, his gun held to the back of Anton's head.

###

Jerking awake in the darkness, Liz almost cried at the pain in her head. But knowing that would increase the pain, she held her tears in check. Her headache wasn't being helped at all by the shivering in her body as her muscles clenched. She'd never been so cold and miserable in her entire life. And the one thought that currently occupied her mind was of the pile of blankets lying inches behind the wall she was leaning against.

"Get up…get up… come on…"

Groaning as pain shot through her head, she slowly brought one foot up under her and then the other. Bracing her back against the wall, pushing with both legs, she inched her way off the cold floor.

"Oh God!" she cried out, as pain radiated through her head and a dizzy spell overtook her. She waited for it to subside a little before continuing to push her way back up the wall.

"If you…can… do it… Ress…so…so can I…" she grunted, closing her eyes and grimacing. And slowly, she inched her way up the wall until she was standing against it.

Sliding one foot to the side as she leaned against the wall, she then pulled her other foot to meet it. The movement almost brought her to her knees as her head swam. Again she waited for it to clear. And sliding her feet one step at a time she made her way to the doorway, feeling her way along the wall in the dark.

###

As Ressler focused on the room he was sitting in, the woman in front of him became clearer. She was speaking to him as Floyd threw a blanket over him. Nodding his thanks to the old man, he tried to take the cup of tea she was handing him, but realized his fingers weren't going to cooperate.

"I'll put it here for you," she told him, placing the mug on a small table before he spilled it.

He attempted to smile at her, knowing it was a lopsided Ressler MK1 smile at best, "Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh hush, now. Ma'am is for strangers and in our home there are no strangers. I'm Nellie."

Ressler leaned back on the recliner, his head suddenly feeling very heavy. "Thank you, Nellie." He croaked, and didn't miss the worried glance from Nellie toward Floyd. His eyes were drawn to the nearby window, almost willing the helicopter to appear. _Liz…hang in there…_

"I need a phone…" he told them as they hovered over him.

"Yup, I thought you might. Here," said Floyd and handed him the phone. For a moment he stared at it. He couldn't think of the number since they were programmed into his phone and he never dialed them. He retrieved his almost dead phone from his pocket, and fumbled through the recent calls to find the number he needed. Dialing, he looked at the two elderly people leaning over him. On an unspoken cue, they both leaned back and stepped away.

Ressler leaned back in the chair again, feeling something warm on his knee. Scooter was resting his chin on him and leaning up against his leg (and ignoring Floyd's hissed call for him to leave the man alone.) His phone was in his hand, with 1% remaining. And as he looked into the calm eyes of the dog, the second last thing he did with his dying cellphone was snap a picture of the grey and white dog resting his head on his knee.

The handheld phone was answered in his ear, and as Ressler was about to speak he realized it wasn't Cooper but his recording. "Damn…" shaking his head, he again looked at his contacts. And dialing another number from the list he closed his eyes and waited for the phone to be picked up at the other end.

###

The air at the Post Office was somber. With two agents and their top FBI informant missing, things were looking more dire as the days dragged on. As Aram sat at his desk looking through the latest satellite data supplied to them by the CIA, it was becoming increasingly harder to look through the images. Somewhere in that vast area around DC a small plane had gone down. But he couldn't find it. No one could find it.

Samar looked up from her desk across from Aram as he pinched the top of his nose, closing his eyes momentarily before returning his attention to his laptop. They were all concerned. Cooper had barely left the building in five days. And yet Samar was fairly sure that Aram had been here even more than Cooper. Leaving no stone unturned he had scoured the satellite images, zooming in on them for hours on end. And when he wasn't doing that he was on the phone to the search teams.

But as the days dragged on, there were less calls to and from the search teams. It was approaching the time when it would go from a rescue mission to one of recovery.

Aram felt her looking at him and raised his eyes over his laptop as she came to stand before him.

"Feel like taking a break and grabbing a coffee?" she asked him, her eyes catching his. Eyes that he couldn't resist, apparently.

"Um, yeah, sure," he said, and got up to follow her. Half way to the break room, he patted his pocket and noticed he'd left his phone on his desk.

"Hang on a sec," he told her and quickly moved back to his desk, only to find his phone ringing.

As he looked at the caller ID, he muttered, "Who the heck is Floyd Chase…?" He looked up at Samar waiting for him as he answered.

"Aram Mojtabai."

There was no one on the other end and he was about to hang up when he heard a scratchy voice.

"Aram. It's Ressler."

"Who is this…?" asked Aram as Samar came closer, seeing the look in his eyes.

"Ressler! It's Ressler!" came the voice on the phone

"Oh my God!" his eyes flew to Samar. "Agent Ressler?!" The agent beside him heard him and rose to his feet. "Is it really you? You don't sound like-" Agents in the room were coming over now, as Ressler's name was hurled around the room.

"We went off course. The plane went down. We're alive, but I don't know-"

"Hold on! Hang on! Oh my God!" he cut off Ressler as he turned toward the stairs to Cooper's office, meeting Samar's grinning face for a moment. As agents let him through, applauding and high fiving now, he ran two at a time up the metal staircase. Flying through Cooper's office door, he found the office empty. "Agent Ressler, hold on, I'm trying to find Cooper!"

Lights were on in the upstairs conference room as Aram sprinted toward the door. Not even taking the time to knock he collided with the door and almost fell into the room. Indignant voices were thrown his way as several men looked up at this intrusion. Aram, for once not worrying about appearances, sought out Cooper among the men and headed for his boss.

"Sir! It's Agent Ressler! He's alive! He's on the phone!" Aram thrust the phone toward Cooper as the other agents stood, now realizing why their meeting had been interrupted.

Cooper rose unsteadily to his feet, one hand on his cane as he grabbed the phone. "Ressler?!"

"Yes, sir. I -"

"His voice is very croaky, sir," Aram offered in explanation. Cooper looked at him as he held the phone.

"What happened? Where are you?!"

As Cooper held the phone, he heard Ressler's weak voice asking someone where he was, followed by a scratchy, 'please tell my boss'.

"Sir, this is Floyd Chase up in Livingston County, west of Dansville. Your man said his plane flew off course and his partner is still out there. I got the police chief and EMT from Dansville coming here to go out and get her."

As Cooper listened to the location, he was scribbling it down on a notepad. Aram looked at it, eyes raised, amazed that Ressler's position was so far north. No wonder they hadn't found them near DC. Cooper ripped the page off the notepad and handed it to a man beside him who ran from the room with it.

"Thank you, Mr Chase. May I please speak with my agent again?" Cooper heard the phone change hands, then Ressler croaked, "Sir."

"Ressler. Where is Reddington?"

"I don't know."

And before Cooper could ask anything else the sound of a dog barking came to him down the line.

"Sir, I have to go."

The line went dead. Ressler had hung up.

###

Anton turned to face Young, staring down the barrel of the gun his employee held on him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked Young, his breath hissing through clenched teeth.

"You are not killing this man."

"What business is it of yours what I do?!"

As Young faced down his employer, Red had risen to his feet and now spoke up from behind Anton. "You appear to have a personnel problem in your ranks. Though I must admit, I wholeheartedly agree with your man's sentiments. I don't believe we need any killing here today either."

"Shut up, Reddington," Anton flung at him over his shoulder. Behind him, Red moved closer to the aisle standing between Anton and Dembe.

Young's eyes flickered to Red and in that instant Anton zeroed his weapon on Young. But Red was already moving. In one swift motion he collided with Anton, his cuffed arms slamming into Anton's kidneys and dropping him immediately. Young went down under the weight of Anton pitching into him, grunting as he hit the deck. Grimacing as his hand collided with the back of a seat, his weapon flew from his hand and landed under the seats a few feet from him.

Anton was down, but still had his weapon. Young darted to the side just as Anton fired and in a spray of foam and fabric, the bullet shattered the seat near Young's head.

"Whoa!" came Campbell's cry.

Diving for Young's loose weapon, Red was having difficulty reaching it with his cuffed wrists. In that same moment Dembe landed on Anton, forcing him down again and knocking the weapon from his hands. But the man was struggling under him, retrieving his gun and changing targets.

Gone was the man who was delivering his captor to someone else. Now purple faced and shaking with rage, Anton turned under Dembe and glared at Red.

"You son of a bitch. You're dead," he said, as he raised the weapon and held Red in his sights.

"Stop!" It was Campbell, standing unsteadily on his feet while leaning on the back of a seat, taking aim at Anton. And as Anton lifted his weapon to take Reddington out of his life once and for all, Campbell fired.

Anton went down immediately, a bullet slamming into the back of his skull and lodging in his brain. The body landed on Young, who stared into the dead eyes of his boss. Grunting as he extracted his legs and scooting backward, he whirled to face Campbell, "Damn it! You almost shot me!"

Campbell faltered and fell into the nearest seat as his single crutch dropped into the aisle. And as Young scrambled to his feet with his chest heaving, he stared at Red.

"Choices, Mr Young."

"Oh, shut up!" Young hurled at him, running his hand through his hair before turning and stalking toward the front of the plane.

"And you're welcome, by the way," came Red's voice from behind him.

###

As Ressler hung up on Cooper on the other end of the phone, the sound of the helicopter filled the air, announced by Scooter's barking.

"Hush!" yelled Floyd, and this time the dog listened.

Ressler was struggling to his feet, politely ignoring Floyd's wife's ministrations to have him sit back down before he fell down. But in a show of solidarity Scooter was right beside him, offering himself for support as Ressler steadied himself with his hand on the dog's back. Through the living room window, the lights from the helicopter lit up the night.

Snow flew as the helicopter landed, causing a small avalanche to descend off the pitched roof in a rumble of white powder. As the rotors slowed two men jumped down and hunched under the blades as they approached the front door. Floyd met them, holding the door open for them before guiding them to the living room.

As the police chief and EMT entered the room Ressler met the men, his FBI credentials ready for them.

"Well, it's little hard to tell under that beard and how exhausted you are, but yeah, you're the guy alright," said the Police Chief, shaking his head a little in surprise before handing the wallet back to Ressler. "Charlie Perkins, Dansville PD," he said in introduction.

Beside him, Floyd stepped aside to let the EMT through. "Sir, I'm Steve McConnell, and I'd like to examine you if I may. I understand you've been out in this weather several days," said the medic, starting to open his bag.

"I'm fine," Ressler told the medic, his voice cracking on the word 'fine' as he swayed and grabbed at the armrest of the chair, grimacing as pain flared in his right shoulder.

"That remains to be seen, though I see your sense of humor is intact," said the medic, ignoring Ressler and lifting his stethoscope out of his bag. "Take a seat please."

Ressler did not take a seat, as fresh blood seeped from under his coat and spoke to the police chief. "We need to get to my partner. She is the one who needs the medic."

"Let's get you checked out first, Agent Ressler," added Charlie.

"I said no."

Nellie was suddenly at his side and politely suggested he let them look at him. He gave her his half smile. She meant well. "Ma…Nellie, my partner is out there," he motioned to the window, "and she is in bad shape. Her need is greater than mine," he explained as his voice cracked and as he told the woman he saw her eyes soften. She patted him on his hand.

"Charlie," she addressed the chief, "you need to get this nice man back out there and find his partner," she told him. Her words were firm, yet her voice was soft. The chief listened, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at the elderly woman.

"Steve, stow that kit, we're out of here."

As Ressler began to move for the door to the living room, Floyd walked back in dressed in his coat and gloves again.

"Where do you think you're going…?" asked Nellie.

"Out there in that chopper. I've seen this FBI man this far. I gotta see his partner safe too."

Nellie nodded to her husband. "Of course you do. Go get her Floyd."

Ressler listened to the exchange as he stood propped up between Charlie and Steve. Heading down the hallway toward the front door, Scooter whined. As the front door opened and they stepped out into the cold night, Ressler stopped at the top of the steps on the front porch. He turned, the men momentarily releasing him. Kneeling with effort, Scooter bounded to him. As Ressler held the dog's head in his hands, he didn't need to say a word. Without this dog, he'd have still been uselessly walking south in the snow. Or lying dead in it.

Floyd helped him up and together they walked to the waiting helicopter where Steve and Charlie hauled him inside.

"Chesterfields Quarry," Charlie told the pilot.

Ressler leaned back in the seat beside Floyd as the helicopter rose into the night sky.

###

Red called out to Campbell who was looking decidedly green around the gills further up the plane. "A sincere thank you, Mr Campbell for that well timed, and I must say, well aimed shot." Red complimented him.

Young met the copilot who was exiting the cockpit at the sound of the shots. "What the heck is going on out here?!"

"We need to turn around and head back to Rochester!" Young shouted into the stunned copilot's face, ignoring his question.

"What…? We can't do th-"

Young interrupted him, "Turn around!"

"Sir, we need to refuel. We will be landing in Cologne in about 45 minutes."

"Change course. We are not going to Cologne," Young told the copilot. "Find a closer airport and land there. Then refuel and do whatever you need to do. Then get us the hell back to Rochester."

The copilot went to say something, but then nodded in agreement. "Yes, sir." Young was apparently very much in charge now with the instant demise of Anton.

"And he needs to make a phone call," said Young, motioning toward Red.

"Sir, regulations state that only authorized personnel-"

"The lives of two FBI agents are at stake. You will let him make a phone call, got it?"

The copilot looked down the plane toward Red, then back at Young, standing with clenched teeth before him. "Very well," the copilot nodded to Red to come forward.

Unseen by Young, Red smiled with satisfaction then turned to Dembe. The dark man was grinning at him, his white teeth flashing.

"Outstanding," said Red, grinning as he stowed Young's gun in his pocket and made his way to the cockpit.

###

Liz was unable to take another sliding step and sank to the floor as every bone and muscle in her body gave up. And frustratingly, lying about 6 feet to her right lay the pile of blankets that would offer some comfort from the bone numbing cold. But they may as well have been 60 feet away, because she could not get to them.

Staring at the blankets in the light of her phone, now she cried. She was going to die out here, of that she was now certain. And Ressler hadn't come back. He hadn't made it. And the thought of that was the hardest. He would likely die out there all alone in the snow as he was overcome by the elements, while she would die all alone on this cold floor.

And try as she might to raise her mind from that sorry outcome, she was unable to. They'd given it their best shot. They had come so far, survived the plane crash and escaped the explosives room only to have it end like this.

Trying to sit was no longer working. Her back muscles cramping and with no way to ease the spasms, she slid to her side and found herself laying on the hard floor. Her head throbbed at this new position, but she was no longer able to raise herself to a sitting position. She closed her eyes as the blood rushed to her head.

And lying on the floor, all she could do was sob. This was going to be how she died. The pain in her head was intolerable in this position on the floor. And she realized, it was true. Your life did go through your mind when death was approaching.

Visions swam in front of her. Of Sam, of being held by him and hugging his neck. "Daddy..." she murmured. Of marriage, of walking down the aisle to the one man she thought she could trust. Of dreams of a baby that never came to fruition. Of a glass box with a criminal sitting in it. "Oh, I think you're very special." And of betrayal and hurt at the hands of her husband. "Babe…"

And finally, of the one person she wanted to be thinking about if this was the end. Her partner. Her best friend. Her Boy Scout. "Ress…" And the tears fell as she held him in her mind. From his initial open hostility to her, to begrudging acceptance. To growing friendship, to trust and confiding in each other and finally to their kiss. "It was…" And as she held him, not wanting to ever let him go, she saw his face before her and clung to the thought of him. She could hear his voice, and feel his touch under the blankets the night before. He was so near and yet so far away.

"Liz."

He seemed so close.

"Liz!"

And now the voice was in her ear, not in her mind. A croaking, breaking voice. "Liz! I made it!" So close to her she could touch him now.

"Ress…?" she whispered and opened her eyes now, to find him leaning down in front of her. Lights shone outside the window as she became aware of other men in the room. Focusing on him, it was suddenly very clear that this wasn't a vision.

She sobbed, reaching for him as he leaned by her head.

Her Boy Scout had come back for her.


	15. Conclusion

"How bad is she?" Ressler croaked, not leaving her side even as the medic carried out his examination, her cold fingers still entwined in his.

Steve was examining Liz, shining a pinpoint light in her eyes to check her pupil response. She tried to close her eyes and move her head away.

"Liz, keep your eyes open for him…" Ressler said, leaning down to her

Steve exhaled sharply and then answered Ressler's question. "It's not good," he said, as Liz's left eye remained fixed under the light. "Damn," the medic whispered, reaching into his kit.

"She hit her head in the crash. She's got a huge bump on the side there…" Ressler offered in explanation.

"She's got two," Steve said, shining his light on the second bump on the front of her head. "This one is fresh, occurring in the last few hours and this is the one that concerns me." He turned to the police chief who was busying himself putting blankets over Liz.

"Charlie, tell the pilot we need to go to Buffalo General. Have him radio ahead that we have a probable epidural hematoma." Steve told him. And as Charlie got up to tell the pilot, Steve called after him, "Make sure they have an OR ready!"

Ressler's heart skipped a beat at that and he gripped Liz's fingers more firmly. Her eyes were closed again. Steve was patting her other hand to try and raise a vein to set up an IV. But cold, white skin was all he was finding. Charlie was coming back in the building now, and forgoing the IV and stowing everything back in his kit, Steve turned to the police chief.

"We need to get her in the air now!"

Ressler didn't need to be told twice, and grunting in pain as he got his hands under her shoulders while Steve got her legs they lifted her and laid her on the stretcher. Swaying as he rose to his feet, Steve shone his flashlight on Ressler, the light illuminating the sticky blood trail seeping down the inside of his coat.

Charlie stood by Ressler's side. "How about I take her to the chopper here?" and without waiting for Ressler to argue, he lifted the front of the stretcher while Steve got the back.

Ressler hunched over a little as the men took her and felt a hand on his arm. It was Floyd. He'd almost forgotten the old guy was there.

"You okay, son?"

Ressler honestly wasn't sure, but Liz was his priority right now. "Yes…I'm fine…" he panted as he straightened, knowing the old man didn't believe a word of it, "let's roll…"

And exiting the room, Floyd grabbed the last couple of blankets from the floor as he led Ressler by the arm through the snow to the chopper.

###

Red exited the cockpit of the jet, having made his phone call. He sat down across from Young, and waited for the man to look at him. As he did, Red spoke, "Well, it appears our industrious Agent Ressler has saved the day. I just heard from Harold Cooper that Ressler has made contact with them. Details are sketchy, but Ressler did tell Cooper that both of them were alive." He looked into Young's eyes. "I thought you might like to know that."

Young exhaled looked out the window a moment and then back at Red, nodding. "Yes, that is good news." And then as if the word or sentiment was foreign to him, he hesitated before adding, "…thank you."

After a moment he continued, getting to the real issue at hand. "Why did you save my life?" he asked Red.

Red smiled and leaned back in the chair, "Because that's what you do when a life is worth saving."

Young digested that, leaning on his knuckles on the arm rest. "You didn't save Anton though."

"Exactly."

Young's head dropped back as he let out a laugh, something else that seemed foreign to him. "You're a bastard, you know that Reddington?"

Red grinned back at him, "Oh, absolutely. And it has come to this bastard's attention that you and Mr Campbell are now very much unemployed."

Young settled down and tilted his head as he viewed Red. "Are you offering us a job?" He looked across at Campbell who had been listening.

"Seriously? After the shit the two of us put you guys through? asked Campbell.

"I read people. And trust me when I tell you that the two of you have much more to offer than what that low life Anton was having you do. There are positions in my network where I could use a couple of guys like you. You may not realize it, but you're good under pressure. You work as a team. And you cooperated with myself and the FBI. And I don't know about you, but I think we all got along swimmingly, don't you think?"

Young was laughing again. "Swimmingly? Is this how you always talk, Reddington?"

"Oh, you'll find I have a wealth of words up my proverbial sleeves."

Campbell and Young exchanged glances again. "I'm up for it," said Campbell.

"Oh, what the hell. I'm in," said Young, shaking his head and looking at Red and Dembe who just come down to join them.

"Hey, brother," said Young.

Dembe looked at Young and then let out his big grin before glancing at his boss.

Red grinned. "You see?" he swept his hand around, encompassing their little group. "We're already getting along swimmingly again."

"You're a piece of work…boss," said Young as Campbell chuckled across the aisle.

###

As the chopper left the vicinity of the quarry and headed for Buffalo, Ressler positioned himself at Liz's head and watched Steve working on her. Wrapped in the two blankets Floyd had placed around him, he was shivering again and his body felt weird.

Steve once again attempted to get an IV into his patient. The air was a little less cold inside the chopper and a faint vein made its presence known in the back of Liz's small hand. Knowing it was all he had to work with, the medic managed to get the needle in. After placing the IV to start getting fluids into her, he hung the saline bag from a hook on the ceiling. Checking her eyes again and giving her vitals a once over, he wasn't happy at how low they were.

The pilot was on the radio, talking to the hospital as they flew toward Buffalo. "Roger that, we have two patients on board. Both are plane crash survivors and have been exposed to the elements several days." The pilot listened, then replied again, "The FBI plane? Yes, sir. These are two FBI agents from that missing plane."

And behind him Ressler groaned inwardly. The media would be all over this now.  _Let the circus begin…_

Ignoring the pilot, Ressler watched the medic continue to monitor Liz as they flew through the clear, dark night. "Is she gonna be okay?" he asked.

In reply, Steve glanced at his watch again. "If we can get her in the OR in the next 30-40 minutes or so she should be. There's a lot of pressure on her brain right now, but once that's relieved she'll feel 100% better."

Ressler swallowed hard. He didn't want to ask. But he did anyway. "And they do that by…drilling into her skull….right?"

"Right," confirmed Steve, again checking Liz's eyes. He called out to Charlie, who was up front with the pilot.

"ETA, Charlie?"

Charlie asked the pilot, then leaned back, "Six minutes."

Ressler was shaking harder now as Steve looked up at him. "See, plenty of time. Time enough for me to quickly check out that bleeding of yours too."

Ressler shook his head, "No, just take care of her." His eyes dropped to Liz lying beside him. She hadn't opened her eyes since shortly after they'd got to her.

"It won't take me a minute just to dress it."

Ressler leaned his head back on the seat, catching his breath then rolled his head to address the medic. "We're going to a hospital that's full of doctors. I can get checked out there," he croaked.

"Can't argue with the man's logic there, Steve," piped up Floyd across from Ressler.

"Okay fine. But here," he held a thick gauze pad up to Ressler, who took it from his hand, "jam that over that wound just to appease me, okay?"

Ressler opened his jacket and pushed the gauze under the folded flap of fabric under his vest strap, grimacing as he did so. "There…see, I can appease…"

Across from him Floyd chuckled, "You remind me of my youngest boy. Stubborn, but sassy with it."

"Then he must be a great guy," said Ressler, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the seat as they felt the helicopter turn and start its descent.

###

It had barely been fifteen minutes since word had got out that a helicopter was bringing in survivors of the FBI plane crash, yet the media were already arriving at Buffalo General in their TV vans and clamoring for the best position. In a well-oiled ballet the camera crews set up their gear, got their mics ready while the anchors checked their hair and makeup in small mirrors. The sound of a helicopter reached them and as one, all cameras turned to film the police helicopter that was now visible in the night sky as it descended on the hospital. The helicopter growing closer in their sights while the anchors spoke, the images were streamed across news channels everywhere. While Ressler may have groaned inwardly at it, this was big news. After five days, two survivors of a plane carrying one of the world's most notorious criminals had appeared miles away from where anyone was looking.

Camera men had also set up camp on the rooftop overlooking the helipad at the hospital. It was as close as they could get. Not even the media could sweet talk their way onto that helipad. Across from them on an adjoining rooftop, hospital staff were gathering. Their scrubs and uniforms out of sight under thick coats and hats in the cold night air. The scene was set and the star player was coming in to land.

And as the helicopter touched down, medics rushed forward with the two stretchers to collect their two patients. Ressler was looking at the news cameras on the opposite roof. Their floodlights lit up the night as their cameras rolled. He couldn't think about it now though and turned back to Liz as Steve was getting her stretcher unstrapped and ready to move.

As the hospital crew clambered on board and carefully took Liz, they loaded her on the waiting stretcher. For a moment, Ressler didn't want to let her go. If she didn't survive the  _…skull drilling…_  surgery, he might never see her alive again. But it was out of his hands. She was in the hands of the medical profession now. All he could do was sit and watch as they rushed her off to the waiting elevator on the rooftop, with Steve in tow.

_Liz…_

As the second hospital crew came on board, they blocked his view of Liz's departing stretcher. "Sir, we need to get you on this stretcher, okay?"

Ressler looked at the waiting stretcher. "No, I'm fine."

"Sir, just as a precaution, we need you on the stretcher," the medic repeated.

"I said no," Ressler told them, standing shakily to his feet now.

Floyd stood then, addressing the hospital medic. "How about we see if the man can make it on his own two legs first. He's been through a helluva lot. I think he can make it a few more feet. And if not, hey, you got a stretcher right here."

Ressler looked at Floyd, suppressing a smile. It was very apparent where his youngest boy got his stubbornness and sass from.

Acquiescing, the medic stepped aside and let Ressler exit the chopper unaided. His legs felt weird as he stepped onto the roof, but he was damn well going to walk into this hospital and find where they'd taken Liz. Cameras flashed from the rooftop as he turned, as he now noticed the gathering of hospital workers as Floyd jumped down beside him. Squinting his eyes from the glare of the TV lights, he looked at the old man.

"You ready?" Floyd asked him.

"Yessir."

And as Ressler put his arm around Floyd's offered shoulder, the one bit of support he was going to allow himself to avoid going ass over on national TV, the two men walked away from the helicopter and toward the elevator.

"You're not gonna fall over are you? After I told those guys you could make it on your own?" Floyd asked him.

"I'm too stubborn to fall over."

Floyd grinned now as Ressler leaned heavily on him as they made their way up the access ramp to the elevator.

Ressler looked at the old man. "Thank you, sir. For everything."

"My pleasure, son."

Behind them, the two medics stood back with their stretcher at the ready, even though it was pretty obvious it wasn't needed. The Police Chief had joined them, and now stood by the two medics watching the two men make their way inside. And from the rooftop across from the TV crews, a resounding cheer and applause went up from hospital staff as the cameras rolled sending out the images across the nation.

"Smile, son, you're on TV," chuckled Floyd.

Ressler managed a smile and looked at the old man as they approached the elevator. But as they made it to the elevator he recalled that five days ago, someone else had said that to him. And now he didn't even know if the man that had told him that was alive or dead.

###

At the Post Office, the tempo had definitely stepped up. News of Ressler's phone call had made its way through the building like wildfire. With renewed vigor the agents returned to their work, knowing that their two agents were alive.

Aram was talking with Samar. "And then he just suddenly hung up. Said he had to go. But… I'm sure he's fine," he looked at Samar, "…right?"

"Of course he's fine," she assured him as their attention was drawn to Cooper descending the stairs.

"Who's up for some more good news?" he asked his gathered agents. When they looked at him with eyebrows raised in question, he announced, "Raymond Reddington is alive. I just got off the phone with the man."

Aram momentarily wasn't sure if that was good news. The man was truly scary. But of course it was, and he applauded with everyone else.

"I'd say 'job well done' but our people did all of this without our assistance," said Cooper.

Aram was sitting at his computer when something flashed up onto his screen. "Uh, sir, apparently it's made the news. About our agents. Not about Mr Reddigton. Well, at least I don't think they know about Mr Redd-"

"Aram," Samar said softly, in that manner that always seemed to focus him.

"Oh, right. Yes. Look at this!" he grinned, throwing the images onscreen for them.

The TVs above the bullpen changed from their regular displays and were filled with footage of a helicopter arriving at a hospital in Buffalo. The image changed to one of a rooftop as the helicopter touched down.

"Wow…they're really in there…" whispered Aram, as Samar smiled at him.

On the monitors, Medics were seen rushing to the helicopter, as more agents filed into the room to watch. Hushed whispers filled the room as they waited for Ressler and Keen to appear.

As the medics left the chopper, the footage revealed someone lying on the stretcher as they were rushed inside.

"Oh my God…that's Agent Keen…" said Aram. Beside him, Cooper leaned on his cane, his jaw clenched. The mood in the room changed instantly. Ressler had said they were both alive. It hadn't occurred to them that Keen was badly injured.

A moment later, someone stepped down from the helicopter. And as the man turned the TV camera zoomed in and they saw who it was, his face haggard and in need of a shave, his hair tousled, clearly exhausted but standing on his own two feet.

"Agent Ressler! Yeah!" cheered Aram, as the room broke out into applause and whoops and hollers. Cooper grinned, nodding at the sight of his lead agent.

"Who's that with him?" asked Samar.

Cooper grinned at her, "I have to assume that gentleman is Floyd Chase. The man I spoke with on the phone who found Ressler."

"Well, Mr Chase, my hat is off to you, sir," smiled Aram as the images showed Ressler slip his arm around the old man's shoulders.

And the applause continued as the gathered agents joined in with the hospital staff on the rooftop, cheering as Ressler and the old man walked across the roof together.

###

As Ressler and Floyd entered the elevator, they found Steve waiting for them. He addressed Ressler, seeing him leaning heavily on the old man. "Are you ready to let someone check-"

"Where did they take Liz?" he interrupted.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that would be your first priority. I'll take you to where she is, but they're prepping her for surgery and probably won't let you in though."

As the elevator arrived on the 4th floor, Steve motioned for them to exit on the surgery floor. "She's in Room 6," he told them, walking ahead of them.

As they rounded the corner to Room 6, the gurney was being wheeled out into the hallway. Steve called to the orderlies. "Wait! Her partner needs to see her first!"

"Better make it quick, our orders are to get her in the OR immediately."

"Yes, those orders came from me," Steve told them, "you can spare 30 seconds."

Ressler wasn't listening to the men. Floyd had released him and he had stepped over to Liz alone. She was unconscious, and so pale her skin appeared translucent. His eyes travelled to the egg sized swelling on her head. He reached down and kissed her forehead away from the bump. "Don't make me face that terrifying prospect, okay?" he whispered, then leaned back and let the orderlies take her.

And standing in the hallway as she was wheeled away he felt his legs wobble as his body gave in to the exhaustion. He'd walked days through the snow. Suffered unbearable cold. Walked miles to find help, and now when there was nothing more needed from him, he went down. Floyd and Steve caught him before he hit the floor.

"I guess that stubbornness finally gave out, huh?" Floyd told him, as a nurse ran to them with a wheelchair. Propping him up in it, Steve faced him.

"Now, we are going to check you out."

Ressler's eyes were still on the doors to the OR, still swinging from where they had wheeled Liz through. He nodded, not even looking at Steve as they wheeled him off to an exam room.

###

It was almost morning, the pink glow in the sky coming in behind the cracks in the closed blind. Ressler sat in the recliner in Liz's hospital room, his right arm in a sling and his left shoulder strapped. Having got him patched up and settled in his room with a unit of blood, the first thing he'd done was pester the nurses until they gave him Liz's room number. And once he had that, he'd dragged his IV along with him, actually using it for support but had hoped no one would notice that. Making his way along the hall, also hoping his gown wasn't flapping in the breeze and giving everyone an eyeful, he found her room.

The nurses were still telling him he needed to get back to his room every time they came in to check Liz's vitals. But he ignored them, sitting by Liz and waiting for her to wake up. As the nurse came in again, she looked at him, hands on hips.

"You still in here? Your nurse needs you in your room so she can check your vitals too."

Ressler looked at her, leaning back in the recliner. "You know I have a gun, right?" he challenged.

She laughed outright, grasping her belly. "Sugar, I've seen that gown, and there ain't nowhere you can hide a gun under that!"

He smiled with her. She was certainly right about that. He was concentrating on the nurse when he heard a soft voice.

"Wha's so funny…"

He and the nurse immediately turned to Liz. Her eyes were still closed, but she was awake.

"How you feeling, hun?" the nurse asked her.

"…okay…"

"Let me just check out your eyes here, and then I'll let you rest. Oh, and you have a lovely young man here who has refused to leave your side. When you're feeling better, I'm gonna ask you if he has a brother, okay?" she said, joking with Liz while she gauged her reaction as she shone a light in her eyes.

Satisfied, she took the light away. "Looking good here, hun," she said and then went on to check her vitals.

Ressler stood quietly while the nurse worked. As she finished she turned to him. "She's all yours."

He pondered those words. "Thank you…" he told the nurse.

She left the room, chuckling as she left. "Gun. Hah! And get back to your room soon!"

He turned to Liz and immediately held her hand, making sure not to touch her IV as he leaned over to her.

"Hey…are you alright?" he asked her, not sure if she was even still awake.

"…I'm great…" she answered, and attempted to squeeze his hand a little. "…you made it, Ress…"

He looked down, then back at her. "Yeah, we both did…" He remembered something then. "Oh, and I spoke to Cooper. Red and Dembe are fine."

She smiled, and whispered, "…good…" and he could see she was falling asleep already.

"Goodnight, Liz…" he told her, still holding her hand.

"…goo'nigh', Ress…"

"Goodnight, John Boy," he added and she smiled as she fell asleep.

THE END

* * *

_Author's Note: So, I made it to the end! It ran way longer than I first anticipated, but we got there! And I said I'd get this finished before the new episodes came back after the Super Bowl. I appear to have missed it by mere minutes :-) aussieokie_


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